Treacherous
by CallieTaylor
Summary: It's been nearly 12 years since Courtney first auditioned for the Total Drama series, and while she's spent the majority of that time avoiding thinking about her past, she's finally ready to talk about it. Join Courtney as she flashes back through her mistakes, rebounds, and earthquakes, largely centered around her relationship with a certain delinquent. D/C forever!
1. Prologue

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series, any lyrics to any of Taylor Swift's songs, or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Hello, everyone! While I've been a pretty avid fanfic reader over the years, I've had some ideas in my head that I really wanted to get out recently, so this is my first (!) published story, a series of one-shots/off-camera events that happened between Duncan and Courtney that hopefully explain some of her behavior and their relationship a bit better. A lot of the events/emotions are inspired by T-Swizzle, but if you aren't a fan/are unaware, it shouldn't be a problem. Since this is my first story, you have been warned - it could be really great or pretty terrible, criticism is fine as long as it's kind/constructive :) Thanks!**

Prologue

"I've been thinking about it again," I said, turning away from the woman in the comfy lounge chair facing me.

"Thinking about what?"

A twinge of annoyance took hold of me as I realized I would have to say it aloud.

"My time on the show."

Silence fell as she waited for me to say something else. I looked idly around the room, taking in its serene sky-blue walls, the small desk in the corner, and the couch I was sitting on, which took up most of the room. I looked to the clock on the wall opposite me and listened to the second's hand tick ominously, filling up the soundlessness in the space between the two of us.

"It's not like I think about it all the time, every day. And I don't always resent it – I mean, I do, but I remind myself constantly that if . . . those _things_ . . . didn't happen, I wouldn't have half the life I do now. And I wouldn't trade anything for it, I just . . . wish I hadn't lost so much along the way."

She nodded, sensing that I had more to say.

"I mean, other people survived the show without making complete fools or bigots of themselves. And other people in real life find happiness and success and fall in love without having to go through one tenth of what I did." I sighed, realizing I was working myself up over something that I promised I would let go of. "And I get by okay. I'm happy now, elated, really, but I can't stop thinking that if I could do it all again, I would do _everything_ differently. And the remorse is such a sickening feeling. So I find myself pushing it to the back of my mind, focusing on the present and the future. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm being haunted by my past."

She paused for a moment, making sure I was finished, before she replied casually. "We've hardly spoken about your time on Total Drama. That was close to five years of your life. All of your late teenage years, which can oftentimes be some of the most resonant, and at the same time, destructive years. Add in fame, and that impact increases tenfold."

I nodded, waiting to make sure the next words that escaped my lips were one hundred percent the truth, before I spoke. "I- I think I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" She asked, but by the look on her face, I deduced that she already knew what I was talking about.

"Ready to talk about it."

I met her eyes for one of the first times that morning. They were blue, matching the paint on the walls, and while not piercing, they were kind and encouraging. It was one of the reasons I kept coming back to see her every week in the beginning, and why I trusted her so much now. There was a soft spot in my heart for blue eyes.

I took a deep breath, closed my own deep brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, and did the thing I had been trying so persistently not to do for the past eight years.

I remembered.


	2. Chapter 1: Anger Over Pity, Any Day

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series, any lyrics to any of Taylor Swift's songs, or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: As I'm on summer vacation at the moment, I'm going to be updating very frequently, maybe twice a day just in the beginning to get some bulk out of the way. Anyways, here's the first chapter, enjoy!**

Chapter 1 – Anger Over Pity, Any Day

I was sulking.

I didn't like to use the word. It wasn't very becoming, nor lady-like. But as I sat at the edge of the woods, alone, thinking about how I'd almost been voted off on my first day on the island, there really wasn't another word for it.

The day before had been awful – one of the worst days of my entire life at that point. I was a Hernandez. Fear was frowned upon – natural to possess, but expected to be tucked away and never displayed, because it demonstrated weakness. My politician father used to tell me "Weakness makes us look like fools. That is how dynasties fall." My mother was always quick to agree with him, having me repeat the quote to her each time she had won a big court case.

And yet, I couldn't do it. I couldn't jump off the cliff. Growing up a Hernandez, I could count on one hand everything I was truly afraid of. Heights, one of the more irrational fears, was number four on my list.

I had let my team down because I was afraid of falling.

I could've apologized or admitted my fear, like D.J. did, but those reactions came so unnaturally; I spent years having them removed from my psyche as potential social responses, many thanks to my parents. Instead, when I got backed into a wall, I tended to go kicking and screaming, growing quick-tempered and saying the first thing that came to my mind.

Thus, with a chicken hat upon my head and my teammates looks of disapproval as I met them on the beach for the second part of our challenge, I spat out some nonsense about my CIT-ing experience from the summer before, and it stuck, becoming my main defense for the day and undoubtedly irritating my teammates. I had never gotten off on the wrong foot with so many people at one time.

It was a muggy morning, the beginning of July, and I was debating ending my session of feeling sorry for myself by finding some solace in the main lodge for breakfast or the lake for a swim when I heard a large, thumping set of footsteps approach me. I was torn between wanting to wallow in my misery alone or be comforted by a teammate, so I chose to stay seated on the fallen tree trunk I had been resting on and to wait to see what the on-comer's intentions were. _Maybe_, a small voice in the back of my mind said hopefully, _it's a team member coming to tell you everything is okay._

It was, in fact, the opposite.

"Great plan, princess." I heard the juvenile delinquent's sarcastic drawl coming from maybe a foot behind me. "Next time we'll be sure to vote for you to be Queen of the Project again."

I sighed, and stood up, readying myself to leave. As if I wasn't feeling bad enough already. "Project _Manager_, Duncan," I emphasized, refusing to look at him. "And the whole is greater than the sum of its parts."

"Uh, _no_, I'm pretty sure all the parts make up the whole," he said, in a tone that sounded like he was talking to a stupid person.

"It's an expression, Duncan." I began the short trek back to camp, and, to my vast annoyance, he fell in step beside me. "It means that the team as a whole is more important than any individual." I sighed for a second time, wondering why exactly I was quoting Aristotle to a criminal.

He was quiet for a moment, and just when I thought he would leave me to mope in peace, he opened his mouth again, "Ahh, so I get it. It means that even when you're responsible for a screw up, you don't have to own up to it."

"No, it doesn't, it just-" I started to protest. My self-pity was quickly turning into anger.

He cut me off. "Gotta remember that the next time I run a bank heist. Thanks, chicken wing." He winked at me and sped up, heading into the lodge.

"I- you- ugh- come back here." I growled, shaking my head and following him inside. There was no way I was letting him have the last word on this matter, when he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Just because I could put the blame on myself, doesn't mean anyone else had that right.

I was right behind him, huffing, as he approached Chef Hatchet for breakfast. "Two bowls of white slop, _please_." He said, ignoring me.

I was momentarily thrown off, as I watched him take a bowl in each hand and turn around to find a seat. "You like that pig feed enough to eat two whole bowls of it?" I asked incredulously. I was sure I didn't see him touch his dinner the night before. Not that I was paying any attention to him then.

"Definitely not," he replied coolly, surveying the mess hall. "One of them's for you." And then he took off again, finding two empty seats at the Bass table, and setting down a bowl of what looked like watery oatmeal in front of each. He then proceeded to sit down and eat his, leaving the seat beside him open for me.

I thought about asking Chef for my own bowl, but when I turned around to face him, he was glaring daggers, kitchen knife in hand. Sighing and pretty hungry from getting through most of yesterday without eating, I resigned to sit next to Duncan in silence, trying a scoop of the oatmeal. It tasted like watery cement, and I grimaced when I swallowed, deciding that I wouldn't take another bite.

Duncan watched, amused. I turned and glared at him. "I am perfectly capable of getting my own breakfast, you know."

"Of course, you are, princess," he smirked again, and I had the sudden urge to slap it off his face. "I just figured you'd appreciate a little extra help, what with the lack of the servants you're used to around here."

"Stop calling me that," I said through gritted teeth. "I am not a princess. I am Courtney."

"Sure, sure, whatever floats your boat, princess."

I was about to stand up and yell, but I took a deep breath, and thought that it wasn't worth it.

To my surprise, he stayed quiet for the next few minutes, smirking into his oatmeal, as other campers slowly made their way into the lodge for breakfast. When Geoff and D.J. joined the table, he shifted his body away from me to talk to them about the bunks, what to do with their day off, and Harold's snoring. I eventually gave up on my gruel, and made my way back to our cabin.

_Stupid, annoying boy, _I fumed. _He just had to come and bother me this morning._

Katie and Sadie were in their swimsuits, towels in hand, when I walked in. "Courtney!" Katie greeted me happily. "Sadie and I were just about to go meet Bridgette at the dock to swim and tan and stuff. Do you want to join us?"

"Sure," I smiled, glad that the two of them had been too busy with their poison ivy rashes the day before to harbor any hard feelings towards me.

As I walked out of the cabin dressed in my swimsuit five minutes later, I couldn't help but feel grateful that arguing with Duncan had seemingly pushed my self-criticisms to the very back of my mind. And immediately after, I did the same with all thoughts of him.


	3. Chapter 2: Sleep-Deprived Solidarity

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Thank-you lovelizzy08 for my first review ever! I have a good idea for where I want this story to go, and am excited to get it all out on paper, so to speak. Without further ado, here's Chapter 2!**

Chapter 2 – Sleep Deprived Solidarity

I huffed loudly, the moonlight seeping in through the front windows of my cabin, and turned to the side of my bunk to check my alarm clock for the third time that night. 3:47A.M.

"Great," I muttered, and threw my pillow over my face to smoother my ears. I had been in and out of sleep, but it seemed like each time I managed to doze off, I was awoken by a loud, chainsaw like noise coming from the boy's side of the cabin. From the restless bodies continually shifting in the bunks beside me, I determined that I wasn't alone in my frustrations.

After a few minutes of futile attempts to fall back asleep, I was thoroughly pissed off. With a great sigh of annoyance, I got out of bed and wrapped my blanket around me like a cape, making my way out of the cabin. I didn't really have a game plan for what exactly I was going to do, but I figured that anything was better than staying here at this point. I could feel curious eyes follow me as I left, but didn't think twice about it.

I let the front door of my cabin swing shut somewhat loudly, partially because I knew that my other cabin mates were awake and partially because I was shocked at what I saw outside my cabin. Several members of the boy's side of the cabin were sprawled out within viewing distance. DJ was leaning up against a rock about fifty paces from the front steps of the cabin. Geoff was passed out on the ground beside him. Tyler was sat against the left side of the steps to our cabin on the ground. And Duncan was sitting on the steps a few feet from me, his blanket worn in the same fashion as mine. They all (with the exception of Geoff) looked up at me uninterestedly when they heard my arrival, and then promptly slumped their heads again tiredly. As Duncan was the only one who kept his eyes open and the nearest to me at the time, I sat down next to him, keeping about a foot between us. He turned to look at me with a blank stare.

"So Harold's the chainsaw?" As if on cue, a thunderous snore echoed from inside the boy's cabin.

Duncan groaned, pulling his blanket closer around his shoulders. "You can hear it from your side of the cabin, too?" He asked.

"Like a jet plane," I responded dejectedly.

We sat in silence for a few moments before it was broken by the monstrous sound again. "Ugh! I'm going to murder him," I seethed, putting my head between my knees and covering my ears.

"This bites," he agreed, knocking his head against the railing next to him.

I looked over at him. "Can't you do anything about this? Like wake him or punch him or strangle him in his sleep, or something?"

"Why? Because I'm a criminal?" He asked annoyed.

"Um, _yes_." I responded, frustrated that he couldn't understand the logic behind my request. If anyone could've silenced Harold, one way or another, it would've been him.

He looked annoyed for another few seconds, then his face relaxed and he shrugged his shoulders, obviously realizing that it was a reasonable thing to conclude on my part. He sighed. "We woke him up once, earlier on. He was so _annoying _about it that I wanted to smash his stupid dork face in right then and there. The other guys had to hold me back. He fell pretty much right back to sleep, and I don't wanna risk blowing up again. If I step one 'toe out of line,'" he made air quotations around this expression, "as my parole officer said, I'm straight back to juvie."

"Well, I don't think anyone would blame you," I laughed and rolled my eyes.

He smiled at me, and we sat looking at each other for a few seconds. Coming back to reality, I realized I was laughing with the most irksome human being on the planet – were we having a _moment?_ – and I awkwardly cleared my throat, averting my eyes and standing up. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him swallow and look away, his facial expression quickly returning to its normal look of blasé.

"I'm, um, gonna head back to bed to at least attempt to get another few hours of sleep. It's a challenge day tomorrow," I added, matter-of-factly.

He nodded, too tired, I assumed, to bother with one of his signature snarky comments, resting his head back on the railing.

I closed the door more quietly this time, feeling oddly as if I was sneaking back into the cabin. As I crawled back into bed, I tried to get a grip on the weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. _It's because he's a criminal, _I told myself firmly._ He had to be forcibly removed from society. That's why you feel so weird. You've never had a civil conversation with anyone like that ever before._ A small voice in the back of my mind perked up at this. _Exactly, _it said. _And he's different than I thought he would be. _I pushed this nagging feeling away as I wrapped myself tighter in my blanket.

Harold's snores continued to drone on, but I had the feeling that even if he went completely silent, I still wouldn't be able to get back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 3: Toxicity on the Dock

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Chapter 3 is up! If you're still here, enjoy :)**

Chapter 3 – Toxicity on the Dock

"Wow, Courtney, that was so good!" Bridgette said, hanging off the edge of the dock.

"Really, _really _good!" Chirped Katie, propped up on her forearms on her towel that was sprawled out on the end of the dock.

"Like, _totally good_." Sadie tagged on, from her spot next to Katie.

"Thanks, guys," I smiled. It was the day after the dodgeball challenge, and the team was still in high spirits from our victory. The girls of the Killer Bass decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and empty dock, and we were chatting away, when we landed on the topic of hobbies. I mentioned that I played the violin, and got hit with the familiar urge to play immediately. I jogged back to the cabin, took my violin from its case, and hurried back to join my teammates, excited that I had something to do whilst I sunbathed. I was also looking forward to showing off a bit; lots of kids were forced through years of violin lessons and learned the bare basics. While initially I attended lessons at my parents' disposal, I fell in love with the instrument. I could play almost any tune, traditional or otherwise, off the top of my head without music, and was quite proud of this talent. For my fourteenth birthday, my parents bought me a brand new, state-of-the-art Stradivarius, which set them back about $3,000. It was my pride and joy.

"Ooh, ooh! Can you play that one song from that Disney movie?" Sadie asked, excitedly.

I locked eyes with Bridgette and smiled, the same thought running through both of our minds. "I'm gonna need you to be a little more specific than that," I said, fighting the urge to burst into laughter.

"The Little Mermaid one?" She asked, completely unfazed.

I racked my brains for a minute to think of which one she was talking about. "Part of Your World?" I guessed.

"Yes! That one!" She practically screamed.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, thinking of how the song started, and when it came to me, I opened them, and slipped into the melody, adding a few embellishments here and there; the song itself wasn't too difficult.

After I completed two verses and two rounds of the chorus, I brought the song to a close, watching Katie and Sadie gape and Bridgette smile widely.

"That was beautiful!" Sadie squeaked.

I sat for the next half hour, cross-legged on the dock, playing every song they asked me to, from "Beauty and the Beast" and "Hotel California" to "Hey Jude" and "Bohemian Rhapsody."

I was half-way through a rendition of Britney Spear's "Toxic," laughing as the girls around me sang along, when a snarky voice cut me off.

"Learn that in the castle, princess?"

I stopped playing, took a deep breath in through my nose, and turned around to see Duncan, Geoff, and D.J. approach the end of the dock in their swimwear.

In the bright sunlight, as he was sauntering towards me, I couldn't help but notice his physique. While his arms were very toned, his midriff was slim and smooth, with the faintest remanence of abs. He wasn't endowed with a washboard set like Geoff or an enormous, bulky set like D.J., both of which I often found intimidating in guys – if you hit the gym each day, relentlessly, does that mean that I need to, too? He looked effortlessly flawless, like he didn't have to try to be good-looking. _This is Duncan_, I thought to myself. _He doesn't try at anything_.

"Like what you see?" I had been staring too long.

"No," I replied, far too quickly, snatching my eyes back up to his face. _Damn it_, I thought.

He smirked, and before I was forced to think up a comeback, Bridgette stepped in.

"Oh, come on, Duncan, don't pretend that you're not impressed," she said, treading water. "Courtney's awesome."

"She does sound pretty great, Bridge," Geoff quickly tapped in, eager to agree with whatever Bridgette said.

I rolled my eyes, but smiled, as I turned my gaze over to the party boy. "Thanks, Geoff."

D.J. joined the conversation and nodded saying, "Yeah. I know a few brothers that play violin, but they don't sound anything _like_ that."

"Pshh, whatever," Duncan scoffed. And without missing a beat, he hastily pushed Geoff and D.J., who were standing close to the edge of the dock, into the water, and then jumped himself, springing his body off the dock and forming a cannonball to make the biggest splash impact.

I saw it in the last minute. I turned around curled my body around my violin to stop it from getting wet. While I moved fast enough for it to stay almost completely dry, I myself was soaked.

I turned around to see him grinning at me from the water. I was dripping wet and furious.

"Duncan! This is a three thousand-dollar violin!" I screamed at him.

He merely rolled his eyes. "Oh, relax, babe. Be thankful I didn't push you in, too."

"Ugh. I _hate_ you," I seethed, and stormed back to my cabin. Whatever had happened between the two of us a few nights ago on the cabin steps was long gone and appeared to have been replaced with a newfound animosity, as I spent the rest of the day plotting ways to kill him.


	5. Chapter 4: Contradictions

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Finally getting into some longer chapters! I love this chapter, and am super proud of it, so if you have any thoughts, please go ahead and hit that review button! :)**

Chapter 4 – Contradictions

It was dinnertime, and I was alone in the cabin. I told Bridgette, Sadie, and Katie that I wasn't hungry, and that I'd meet up with them later. As they headed out, Bridgette had lingered by the door.

"Courtney, I am _so_-" She started.

"Bridgette, don't even worry about it," I shook my head.

"Sorry," she finished. She looked at me sadly, and I could tell she felt terrible.

I gave her a small smile. "I told you, it's fine. It was an accident."

"Is there anything I can do? I can help pay for a new one, I can-" She said, desperation evident in all of her features.

"No," I shook my head again. "Really, it's not a big deal. I was already thinking about getting a new one anyways." This was a lie, but I really didn't want to see her upset about it anymore. While I was angry at first (my usual gut-reaction), and a little bit shocked, I quickly realized that it wasn't her fault. Her projectile-vomiting on national television had also seemed more than a fair price to pay, and I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for her when I watched it happen. By the tail end of yesterday's Talent Show challenge, we were once again on good terms. "The only thing you can do for me is forget about it. Okay?" I smiled at her again.

She smiled and nodded. "Okay."

"And Bridgette," I called, just as she was about to leave.

"Yeah?" she asked, propping the door open, and leaning her head over the threshold.

"If you win, you owe me $3,000." I smiled teasingly.

She laughed. "Deal," she said, and headed over to the lodge.

It had been over twenty-four hours since the incident, and I knew I needed to do something. I took a deep breath, and sat down on my knees, reaching as far as I could underneath my bunk and grabbing the remains of my violin along with its case.

It was completely unsalvageable, and though I didn't want to get rid of it, I knew it was pointless to take it back home in such a state. And holding onto it felt kind of like keeping the remains of a deceased best friend beneath my bed.

I needed to bury it. One quick tear slipped from my eye and I wiped it away as soon as I felt it drop. "Come on, Courtney," I muttered. "Pull it together." I placed the bow back in the case, grabbed a ratty old sweater from the very bottom of my suitcase (one of the few things I hadn't even bothered to unpack), and delicately folded the broken wooden pieces inside. I walked out of the cabin, grabbed the shovel that had been resting against the side of the Killer Bass cabin since that morning, and made my way towards the woods. I asked Chef after breakfast if he could loan me a shovel for the day, and to my surprise, he took me to the boathouse and thrust one into my hands, without a single word except "Put it back where you found it." While this struck me as odd at first, as I walked through the outskirts of the woods, the thought occurred to me that he probably thought I was going to murder someone. One less mouth to feed, in his eyes, and he didn't particularly seem to have a soft spot for children. I was deep in thought, wondering why he took this job in the first place, when I came across the place I had designated for a violin burial site earlier that afternoon.

It was a small clearing, about a five-minute walk from the outskirts of the woods, and well off the trail so that there were no cameras around. I could hear a brook babble in somewhere in the distance, and a few wildflowers and daisies grew in patches. A few rocks of varying sizes were littered around the outskirts of the clearing, which you could cross altogether in about 20 paces. It was small and quaint, and I made a mental note to visit again on a less morbid occasion.

I chose to start digging in the south-west corner of the clearing, between two small rocks. It didn't take me long; the earth was soft here, unsoiled from its lack of human contact. When I had determined the small hole I made to be sufficiently deep, I gingerly placed the wood-filled sweater inside, sniffling once, and covered it back up. Once the ground atop the violin's grave was flat, I plucked a handful of wildflowers and daisies, and placed them on top.

I admired my handy work for a few minutes, feeling oddly cathartic, but still not ready to return to camp. I sighed and walked back to the middle of the clearing. I lied flat on the ground, and felt for a moment like I had disappeared in the tall grasses.

The sun was just beginning to set, and I could see the sky turning orange and pink through blades of green grass and lilac flowers surrounding me. I stayed like that for about five minutes before my thoughts were interrupted.

"You know, I can see right up your dress from here."

My torso and head whipped up off the ground and I came face to face with a smirking Duncan standing at the edge of the clearing. I looked down, moving to sit crisscross and pushing my knee length dress down to the ground so that my undergarments weren't visible to anyone who wasn't an ant. When I looked back up, Duncan had sat down across from me, our knees only half a foot apart. "You're an ass, you know that?" I snapped, disgust and malice evident on my face.

"Calm down, princess, I was only kidding."

"Did you follow me out here?" I questioned angrily, afraid that he had been present for my sentimental burial ceremony. I was beginning to feel extremely violated when he answered.

"I tried to. I saw you head into the woods, but I lost you – figured you'd be one to stay on the trail, as much of a stickler as you are. What _are _you doing out here anyways?" He asked incredulously.

I scowled, but felt relieved he hadn't been witness to my sappy and probably insane-looking good-bye. "I happen to enjoy my alone time. Camp gets a little crowded every now and then."

"It's nice here," he took the conversation in a different direction, looking around, and momentarily throwing me off. "How'd you find it?"

"It's okay," I sighed, making annoyance clear in my tone. "My only complaint is that there seems to be one too many people present. And I go adventuring sometimes."

At this he laughed out loud, turning his gaze back to me. "That is complete bullshit," he spat out.

I felt my cheeks go hot from embarrassment, even though I had nothing to be ashamed of. "It is not!" I protested. "I happen to like exploring new things!" When I was a kid, my father used to take me on a one-week hiking trip, once a year. We would explore caves and climb trees, pretending to be Juan Ponce de Leon and his daughter Maria, discovering land for the first time in search of the Fountain of Youth. These vacations stopped after he was voted into office and threw himself even deeper into his work, claiming as the years passed that he was getting too busy and I was getting too old.

I was lost in thought when Duncan's voice snapped me back to reality.

"What are you thinking about?" I couldn't quite grasp his tone of voice, nor the expression painted upon his face. He was leaning forward slightly, as if studying a perplexing painting, and he sounded frustrated, almost angry. His brow was furrowed deeply and he looked at my face.

"I- It doesn't matter," I shook my head slightly and looked down.

He waited a few moments before speaking again. "I'm sorry about your violin. You were- I was- I mean-" All signs of annoyance had left his voice and were replaced with . . . sincerity?

My eyes shot back to his with the change in tone. I had at some point unconsciously leaned in, and we were inches apart, icy blue meeting the darkest shade of brown. All of a sudden he was too close, we were too close, and I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. I was backed into a corner, a deer in the headlights, a rabbit face to face with a wolf.

I instantly recoiled standing up and taking a few steps back. "No you're not," I spat out at him, shaking my head and letting out a dark, unamused chuckle. He sat frozen, a shocked expression on his face. "You don't give a damn about anyone or anything." I was reminding myself who I was talking to, why I couldn't allow myself to be this close to him alone with him.

He stood up at this, his shock turning into anger. "You're right, I'm not. You'll probably just get Mommy and Daddy to buy you a new one as soon as you get back home, like the spoilt, selfish girl you are."

"That's rich coming from you," I shot back. "Why is it you've been sent to juvie multiple times? Are you honestly craving your parents' attention that much? Or is it a manifestation of years of being overshadowed by an older sibling?" If looks could kill, I would've died at this point, and I knew I should've stopped, but I couldn't. I was on a roll, and he had just fueled the flame. "You know what, Duncan? I don't get you. Nine times out of ten you go out of your way to make me feel miserable, and on that tenth time you suddenly start caring . . . for what? Just to try your luck at getting into my pants? Heather gets put on the other team, and I become your new, more convenient target?"

"Courtney," he began, sounding slightly less angry.

"Just, do me a favor and don't try to follow me this time, okay?" I cut him off, not wanting to hear his explanation.

I stormed past him, headed back to camp, and to my relief, didn't hear footsteps following me. It had grown dark, but there was enough moonlight to paint out my route back, and thankfully, I didn't get lost. As I walked back into the cabin, Bridgette greeted me, "Courtney, hey-" She stopped when she took in my expression.

"I'm going to bed," I said curtly, throwing on my pajamas, and crawling under my covers, facing the wall.

The cabin was quiet then, and someone turned the lights off after less than half an hour. I heard a few whispers outside before that point, which I presumed must have Bridgette trying to figure out from someone else what had happened. I desperately tried to fall asleep to escape thinking about how quickly the night and my conversation with Duncan escalated, but it was no use.

I hated it when he was teasing me, but it was somehow even worse when he behaved in the opposite manner. I was confused, perplexed. It would've been so much easier if he acted one way or the other. I gravitated towards things that were black and white – it's how I viewed the world. Good or bad, strong or weak, perfect or worthless. Duncan lived in shades of screaming color – neon greens and icy blues and scorching reds. There was no room in my world for badness, weakness, worthlessness, or corruption, in any combination or varying degree. Duncan jeopardized that. The concept of him and everything he stood for was exciting; even I couldn't deny that. But at the end of the day, he didn't belong in my narrative. There was no place for him, and any time he got close, he put my entire world at risk; I was a tropical paradise, and he was a hurricane, capable of nothing but destruction and prepared to make a mess the minute I let him onto my shores. He actively tried to do so, even from the water.

So that night I made a decision: that despite the enticement, excitement, and butterflies I felt when I was around him, I would loathe him for my entire existence.


	6. Chapter 5: Allies

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Wow, thank-you so much for those awesome reviews on the last chapter! I'm striving to keep everyone as in-character as I can, and I'm aiming for the story to match along with the canon series as much as possible, rewatching episodes as I go. I spent a few hours this morning working on Chapter 5, and I am equally as happy with it. (Props if you can spot the Pride and Prejudice Quote!) Hope you enjoy, be sure to hit that Review button if you do! Thanks! **

Chapter 5 – Allies

It was good vow, in concept, in theory. But carrying it out proved to be more difficult than I had originally conceived.

I completely assumed that Duncan would lay off after I screamed at him in the clearing; I'd never forget how furious he looked after I said those horrible things to him. But that was just Duncan – the second I expected him to do one thing, he turned around and did something else. He was a wild card, and it drove me insane.

The teasing didn't stop - in fact, it was worse than ever. If he wasn't going out of his way to get under my skin before, he certainly was now. I was surprised, but mostly okay with this – while his antics made him impossible to ignore, they made it much easier to continue hate him. Or so I'd thought.

It was a Tuesday morning, and I had officially been on the island for just over two weeks. We had a full three days off before competing in another challenge on Friday, and Bridgette and I were sprawled out on towels, tanning on the makeshift beach.

"So were you cuddling with him or not?" Bridgette asked, raising her eyebrows and looking over at me.

"Ugh!" I flipped over onto my back, letting my front side receive the rays. "I told you, Bridgette, I don't want to talk about it!"

"Come on, Court, D.J. was the only one awake at the time, and you know how he is with storytelling – he's so vague. I just want to know what happened!" She egged me on.

"Why does it matter?" I huffed.

"It doesn't. But it might help you to talk about it and gain a little perspective on the issue."

"There's nothing to talk about," I sighed. "We were on the forest floor, and it's much easier to sleep with your head propped up on something. It could've just as easily been D.J. or Tyler I was leaning up against. He just happened to be closest to me while I was unconscious, and I must've gravitated towards him in my sleep." This was kind of the truth. After lying awake on the forest floor for hours, listening to the even breathing and light snores around me, I was frustrated. And his chest looked so inviting. It was a sleep-deprived decision, one made out of desperation, but after reasoning that he was fast asleep, I saw no harm in using him as a pillow until morning and moving before anyone else woke up. I hadn't expected to fit so snugly in the crook of his arm or that I would fall so deeply asleep. I woke up groggily that morning; it one of those gradual stirrings that takes a while for you to realize that you're fully awake. It was the best sleep I'd had in weeks, before I realized what was happening. And I couldn't help but greatly regret it. "You know," I tacked on, blame seeping through my words. "It wouldn't have happened at all if you hadn't completely fried the tent."

Bridgette sighed, "I know, Courtney, and I've said I'm sorry about a hundred times. It was an accident." Then she added more softly, "I'm not trying to back you into a corner here. You don't have to push me away, too." We made eye contact, and she wore a knowing look of earnest on her face. Bridgette was one of the most perceptive people I had ever met, and after spending a couple of weeks sharing a cabin with me, she seemed to already understand my intricate self-defense system.

I gave her a small smile and nodded. "Okay. You're right. Thanks." The three sentiments were uttered as a replacement for an apology, and I hoped she could sense the underlying message through them, too.

"And about yesterday – no one blames you, you know?"

"Bridgette," I said. "I _really_ don't want to talk about that." Guilt seeped through the pit of my stomach as I thought about the events of the day before. How for some reason I let Fear #3 slip, the most irrational one on the list. And Chris combined it with Fear #4, heights, demanding that I dive into a pool of green Jell-O forty feet below. I had never felt so weak in my entire life, and I dreaded hearing what my parents back home would think when it aired. They would be disappointed, to say the least.

When I heard from Bridgette that everyone voted Tyler home, instead of me, I couldn't help but feel grateful for their support.

"Good," she said in an upbeat voice, leaving most of the seriousness in our conversation behind. "Put it in the back of your mind because I have a favor to ask you."

I looked at her curiously, prompting her to continue. "Geoff _kind of_ asked me out today at breakfast."

I sat up and faced her, sitting cross-legged on my towel. "Shut up! No way!" I said excitedly.

She sat up and smiled, facing me, as well. "Yeah, we were going to go canoeing, but . . ."

"But what?" I questioned, confused. It sounded like a great day for the pair of them. A set of seven canoes and oars had been sitting on the beach since that morning, probably for Friday's challenge, I reasoned.

"Courtney, I'm so nervous! I really like him, and first dates are always _so _awkward. There's so much pressure if it's just the two of us. And what if it goes badly? Then we're stuck on a team together for the next six weeks!"

I rolled my eyes, sensing where this was going. "Bridgette, I'm not gonna babysit you. I don't want to be a third wheel."

"I know. That's why Geoff is bringing Duncan along, too," she braced herself for impact, as if she had just dropped a nuclear bomb.

"_What?_" I hissed. "And you thought this was a good idea _because_?"

"There was no one else!" She insisted.

"You couldn't have asked Sadie?"

"She's still upset over Katie leaving."

"D.J.?"

"Trying to comfort Sadie."

"_Harold?_"

"Come on, Courtney. It won't be that bad."

"_Won't be that bad_," I scoffed.

"Please? You're not doing it because you like him-"

"I can't _stand_ him," I interjected.

"I know," she reasoned. "You're doing this to help a friend out. And it's good practice for if you have to work together on another challenge. It'll make you a better competitor."

She knew she got me there. "Okay," I resigned, in a voice that seemed to say, 'If I have to.'

She smiled triumphantly. "And if for some reason I see you smiling or _pretending _to have a good time, then I'll know it's all for my own benefit and that you're the best actress on the planet."

"Okay," I nodded, more resolutely this time.

"Great, because they're coming over this way now," she added in the same tone of voice as her last two statements, trying to keep consistency as to avoid me freaking out again.

It was futile. "What, _right now?_ You're not even going to give me time to think it over?"

"You'll be fine," she insisted. "Try to be civil, for me."

"Yes, but the whole ordeal is most inconvenient, since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity!" I whispered urgently.

The two of us stood looking at each other for a moment before we both dissolved in a fit of quiet laughter. The whole situation was so completely absurd that even I couldn't help but find the humor in it.

As we calmed down, she whispered quickly to me, "He's the one who did it, you know?"

"Did what?" I asked, confused as to both who are what we were talking about.

"Last night. Duncan convinced everyone to vote for Tyler instead of you."

I blanched as I stared at her intently. "Don't say that," I whispered, a panicked look on my face.

She looked at me perplexed, "Why not?"

I was saved from answering when the boys approached.

"Hey, Bridge," Geoff greeted her happily. "Ready to test out these canoes?"

"Sure," she smiled warmly, directing her gaze toward the blonde boy in front of her.

My attention turned to green-haired punk standing next to him. "Right," he said. "If you pull a Courtney and freak out on me for absolutely no reason, I'm gonna find another way to spend my day."

I turned my gaze to Bridgette, who was looking at me pleadingly, before rolling my eyes back to the delinquent in front of me. "But if there _is_ a reason?" I asked teasingly.

He smirked at me, seemingly glad that we were back to our usual banter and that I was in good spirits, despite the circumstances. After a few minutes of pulling our canoes into the water, Geoff and Bridgette coyly flirting, and me nagging Duncan to be more careful, we were off, floating away in the middle of the lake. I sat backwards in the canoe, body facing Duncan as he paddled idly and eyes watching Bridgette and Geoff, who were already lost in their own world. I sighed, realizing she didn't really need to drag me out here at all, but I understood – Duncan and I were insurance: hopefully unnecessary, but important to have in case anything went wrong. I was relieved then that I had some company, no matter how horrendous it was, because I would have definitely been a third wheel alone with the two of them.

"Sleep well last night, princess?"

My eyes narrowed as they snapped back to the imbecile in front of me. "Fine."

"You weren't lonely at all? Afraid that the hook man might get you? Or a giant Jell-O monster?" he teased.

"Stop it," I said, without a single trace of amusement.

He lifted his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll back off," he said grinning.

He wrapped both palms around the oar again, and paddled a few more times, spinning us slightly. I sat watching them work. He had strong, callused hands, ones that looked like he had spent years doing yardwork and mowing lawns. Maybe it was from all of his community service, I sardonically mused, but couldn't help but think about when I grabbed a hold of his left hand with my right, yesterday afternoon. "It's okay if you can't do it." The words played through my head again and again, both when I had said them to him, and when he had repeated them back. _It was for the team_, I told myself firmly. _I needed to encourage him, and he was doing the same to me. That's why I held his hand, that's why I hugged him. Everything that happened between the two of us had been completely circumstantial. Strategic. _I couldn't shake what Bridgette had told me, though. It was eating away at me, until I finally blurted out, breaking the silence, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" He asked, raising his brow.

"I- Bridgette told me that you stopped everyone from voting me off. Why?" I thought about taking the words back, but they were already out there, and it was too late.

I studied his face and could have sworn I saw a flash of panic, but as soon as it came, it went, replaced with a blasé expression. He shrugged. "While being afraid of Jell-O is lame, it's still not half as lame as _chickens_. Besides, you're fun to mess with. Camp is boring enough as it is."

I rolled my eyes, but smiled, relieved that his response hadn't been anything more serious than that. "Good to hear I'm such a valuable asset in your eyes."

He smirked back, then turned to watch Bridgette and Geoff who had leaned in close to each other and were making puppy-dog eyes. "Psh," he scoffed. "Get a load of Barbie and Ken."

I laughed. "Ugh, I know. They're so obviously into one another, it's almost sickening."

We talked for a little while longer, teasing each other here and there. I was surprised to find myself relaxing a bit and actually enjoying his company – for Bridgette's benefit, of course.

He cleared his throat. "Thanks, by the way. For yesterday."

I knew he was referring to his fear challenge, and I looked away awkwardly. "You could've done it without me."

"Maybe," was all he said.

I sighed, and turned my gaze back to his. "Look, for the record, I _don't _like you. In fact, I _can't stand _you. You're presumptuous, offensive, and utterly irritating. _But,_" I continued, cutting him off as he moved to protest. "it doesn't mean we can't at least work together. For the good of the team."

He looked thoughtful for a second, then smiled. "Hey, I don't particularly like you, either, honey. In fact, I normally _hate_ people like you. You're stuck-up, bossy, and a total hypocrite." I was about to interject when he cut me off. "_But_," he smirked, using the same set-up as I did before. "We can still be allies. For the good of the team."

I bit my lip, thinking. "This doesn't mean we're friends."

He chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."

"Just allies," I clarified.

"Just allies," he confirmed.

"Good," I nodded, somewhat satisfied.

"You know," he waggled his brow suggestively. "We could be allies with benefits."

I glared at him frostily. "I hate you."

"Worth a shot," he shrugged, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

"You know, since we are allies now-" he began again, a few minutes later.

"If you make one more suggestive remark, I'm voting you off this island the next chance I get," I cut him off.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, would you just relax? I was going to say that we should learn the rest of each other's fears. In case anyone decides to use them against us."

"You mean use them against the team," I corrected him.

"Same difference," he replied casually.

"I don't have any other fears," I said, lifting one of my shoulders and shaking my head matter-of-factly.

"Oh, come on, you've probably got hundreds."

"Excuse me! I only have five." The words came out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.

He smirked at me triumphantly. I sighed heavily.

"You're the worst, you know that?" I snapped at him.

"So what are they?" He asked.

"As if I'm ever telling you," I scoffed.

"Come on, princess. Just one." He bargained.

I shook my head. "No."

"I bet I can guess," he said confidently.

"Whatever," I responded, rolling my eyes.

"Heights," he shot at me quickly.

My gaze snapped back to his, and he stared back at me, victorious.

"How original," he chastised.

"Stop it," I snapped back. "It's more complicated than that." And it was.

"How?" he challenged.

"I just . . . don't like falling." He scoffed and rolled his eyes, and I continued quickly. "I don't like feeling so out of control. It's horrible." I shuddered slightly.

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, as if trying to think of what to say next.

"How did you guess so quickly?" I asked him.

He smiled. "Remember our first day on the island? Only something you were really afraid of would've made you back down from a challenge so soon."

"I could've been afraid of the sharks," I countered.

He shook his head. "You were freaked out even before Chris said anything about them."

That surprised me. I didn't realize he'd been paying such close attention. In the next second, he jumped up from his seat, rocking the canoe in the process.

"Duncan!" His name came out as a strangled mixture of both shock and annoyance.

He grabbed my wrists and pulled me upwards. "So if we fell out of the canoe right now . . ."

"Duncan stop it, seriously. I don't want to get my hair wet." I wasn't afraid (we weren't at any great height, after all), but I had just washed it that morning, and really didn't feel like spending another half hour that day attempting to rid myself from the smell of the rancid lake water.

"Is that your only excuse?" he asked, still rocking the boat ominously, both hands locked around my wrists.

"I- well- yes, but-" It happened in an instant. One moment I was standing on top of our canoe, the next I was underwater. I pulled out of Duncan's grasp, pushing myself to the surface. He came up, too, soaking wet and grinning next to our capsized vessel.

"_Ugh_," I shrieked, splashing water at him. "_Duncan!_"

"Come here, babe," he reached for me.

"_Don't touch me!_" I spat, starting to swim for the shore.

"Aw, come on, don't be like that!" He laughed.

I fumed as I swam all the way in, grabbing my towel, and striding to the cabin to dry off. We weren't friends – how can you be friends with someone you abhorrently despise? – but we could be allies. After all, having allies was strategic. It was smart. It was the right move for Courtney Hernandez. And if it just so happened to justify spending a little extra time with the blue-eyed delinquent while still upholding my promise to loathe him forever, then that was that.


	7. Chapter 6: Surprises

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Warning! This chapter, unlike the others, is definitely T-rated, so if you need reminding of those guidelines for any which reason, please go ahead and review them. Thanks so much for the detailed reviews, they make me so excited to keep writing! This chapter shows a little bit of a side of Courtney that didn't get shown all too often on TD because of the show's desire to stick to stereotypes, but that in my opinion, is super important in explaining everything that happens between her and Duncan in the show and that leads to her character unravelling as the series progresses. Hopefully I do a decent enough job at explaining her psyche in the chapter, and as always, hit that review button if you've got something to say! Enjoy :)**

Chapter 6 – Surprises

"Read 'em and weep ladies," flashing my four of a kind to Bridgette and Sadie, sitting around me.

"And the pot goes to Courtney – again," Bridgette said in a sour tone. I couldn't help but beam – I loved to win, after all – as I collected the hodgepodge pot of dollars, loose change, Scrunchies, and half-empty jars of nail polish in front of me.

It was Saturday night, and while a Friday challenge meant a full weekend off, it had been raining nonstop since the previous night's marshmallow ceremony, leaving everyone feeling a little miserable – Bridgette, especially, since she lived for the sun. She, Sadie, and I decided to play poker after dinner, not wanting to leave the warmth of our cabin again – Bridgette and I already knew how to play, and after a couple rounds of teaching Sadie, the three of us were gambling away. I had a particularly good night; my parents taught me how to play Texas Holdem at the age of ten, and as their student, I became rather adept at the game. They both believed strongly in the power of having a perfect poker face, and I did my best to emulate their strategies.

"Another round?" I asked cheerily.

Bridgette made a face. "Sorry, Court, but I really don't feel like losing again. We could go and check out what the guys are up to," she suggested.

"Ooh, that sounds like fun," Sadie jumped in, likely getting bored with the game, as well.

I sighed. I didn't really want to spend time with the boys, but also didn't want to be left in the cabin alone on such a miserable night. It was choosing between the lesser of two evils. "Fine, I guess we could go."

Both girls hopped up quickly at my comment, probably hoping to get over there before I changed my mind.

"Great!" Bridgette beamed.

We stood out on the cabin porch and knocked on the guys' door, waiting for them to let us in. Thankfully it was covered, so none of us were getting wet, but nightfall combined with the storm had led the air outside to become quite chilly. I was wearing a short, pink pair of pajama bottoms and a grey sweater from my high school. Goosebumps traveled up my legs as the three of us awaited entry.

Geoff answered the door. "Well, hello, dudettes!"

Bridgette, leading the pack, smiled back at him. "Hey, Geoff. We were wondering if we could hang out here for a bit? We got bored of playing poker."

I cleared my throat, an expectant smile on my face, and raised my eyebrows. "Ahem."

Bridgette rolled her eyes and smiled. "Okay, we got tired of Courtney kicking both of our butts."

"Thank-you," I smiled, satisfied.

Geoff chuckled. "Sure, come on in, we've just been hanging."

The three of us filed in quickly, not wanting to spend another second out in the cold, and once inside, I was pleasantly surprised. You could definitely tell it was a boy's cabin from the bare walls and lack of décor – the girls had put up photos, calendars, and posters to decorate our side – but it wasn't messy at all. Laundry was in hampers, beds were (albeit sloppily) made, and bags were tucked away underneath bunks. Duncan and D.J. had apparently had the same idea as us, and were on the ground playing a game of cards, while Harold was watching from his bunk.

"So the princess plays poker, huh?" Duncan called out, his eyes not leaving his hand, as he laid down another card on the pile in front of him and D.J. "Didn't see that one coming."

I rolled my eyes and took a seat on the bunk behind Duncan, peering over his shoulder to look at his hand. "Don't judge a book by its cover," I chastised, but couldn't contain the smirk that plastered itself on my face.

"Ugh, _please_ tell me we're not playing cards again," Bridgette whined. The weather must've been really getting to her; I had rarely seen her look so miserable.

"Uh, we can play whatever you want, Bridge," Geoff sounded panicked, as if pleasing the surfer girl was his sole aspiration in life. I rolled my eyes, and they ended up landing on Duncan's. His blue pair locked on mine, both of us apparently thinking the same thing, and I had to look away, stifling a giggle.

"Ooh! Ooh! I know!" Sadie squealed. "Let's play Truth or Dare!"

"That's actually not the worst idea," Duncan said appreciatively.

"I'm game," D.J. chirped in.

"I'll play, too," Harold wheezed, moving from his spot on his bunk to one on the floor.

"Bridge?" Geoff questioned, hesitantly.

"Sounds like fun," she shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

"Sweet!" Geoff pumped a fist in the air.

"Ugh, how old are we, twelve?" I was not looking forward to playing – especially not with Duncan. In my mind, this could turn out a number of different ways, most of them falling underneath the distinctive categories of horrifying, humiliating, or disgusting. Or a combination of the three.

"What's the matter, darling?" Duncan taunted. "Afraid you'll lose?"

I grit my teeth. "No. It just seems a little too middle school."

Bridgette chimed in, "Come on, Courtney, it won't be that bad."

"Yeah, come on, Court!" Geoff mimicked.

_You've said that before_, I thought, remembering the canoe fiasco. But with my whole team playing, I really didn't want to be the odd one out or the stick in the mud. I sighed. "_Fine_," I said, for the second time that night. I took a seat between Bridgette and Sadie in the circle my teammates had formed on the cabin floor. "But there has to be a few ground rules. One: If anyone other than the person whose turn it is vetoes the dare or the question, the person who came up with it has to come up with a new one."

"That seems fair," Bridgette nodded.

"And two: kissing dares are out of the question," I shook my head, cheeks turning a little pink as a certain delinquent came to mind. "Then it just becomes glorified spin the bottle. Agreed?"

I was met with nods and agreeable murmurs around the circle. "Good," I smiled. "Who wants to go first?"

"I'll go," Duncan piped up.

_Here we go_, I though, letting out an audible sigh.

He took a deep breath, then looked right at me, smiling smugly. "I dare Courtney to kiss me."

"Ugh!" I cried in frustration. I could see that one coming a mile off. "Do you listen to _anything_ I say?"

"Occasionally," he smirked.

"No kissing dares, _Duncan_." I seethed.

"Fine," he shrugged. "Then I dare you to-" he proceeded to propose something explicit that didn't bear repeating and turned my cheeks fire-truck red from embarrassment. Everyone's jaws dropped.

"Fine," I said curtly, and I crawled over to his side of the circle. His expression was shocked. "Close your eyes." He hastily did as I asked, and in an instant, I slammed my fist down on top of his family jewels.

His eyes jerked open, and he yelped in pain, grabbing his package and falling over on his side. I could hear painful "oohs" and Bridgette's muttering of "I saw that coming," as I crawled back over to where I was seated.

"Right," I said matter-of-factly, fighting to contain my own triumphant smirk. "Duncan's turn has been revoked, hopefully along with his fertility. Who's next?"

"I'll go," Bridgette rolled her eyes. "Sadie, truth or dare?"

"Dare!" She squealed excitedly.

Bridgette had been expecting this answer, and she proposed her dare without missing a beat. "I dare you to sneak into the kitchen, steal a pack of hot chocolate, make a cup, and bring it back here for me to drink."

Sadie gulped, and I was impressed. Hot chocolate sounded really good right now. I elbowed Bridgette and held up two fingers, making an excitedly pleading face.

"Two cups," Bridgette modified.

Sadie nodded, stood up, and walked out the door.

Half an hour later, with a half-empty mug of hot cocoa in my hand, my teammates and I were having a blast, shouting out dares and laughing obnoxiously when an embarrassing truth was spilt. So far, I had done cartwheels in the rain, told the entire team all about my middle school boyfriend Tom (who was now my running-mate for student council and had filmed my audition tape back in May, in which I dropped an f-bomb and sent in anyways), and shaved one of Harold's legs, assisted by a now mostly recovered Duncan. I was laughing so hard I was close to tears, and felt positively drunk on the amiable atmosphere.

"Okay, okay, it's my turn," I spluttered out between fits of laughter. "Duncan – truth or dare?"

He grinned. "Truth."

I cocked my head to the side, stumped. I wasn't expecting that answer. "Umm . . . tell us something surprising."

"That's not a question, Court," he teased.

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "Okay, what is something surprising about you?"

He bit his lip for a moment, and then responded. "Both of my parents are cops."

My jaw dropped, and the entire room erupted in gasps and "nuh-uhs."

"No way," I smiled incredulously, shaking my head a little.

"It's true," he shrugged. "Okay, Bridgette," he turned to the surfer girl beside me. "I dare you to jump into the lake . . . butt naked."

"Dude," Geoff chided.

Bridgette bit her lip. "I'll do it if Courtney does it with me."

Maybe I was feeling particularly rebellious that night. Maybe the pressure of being in the competition was a little too much at that point. Maybe hanging around Duncan more than usual was getting to me. But for whatever reason, after a pause, I nodded. "Deal, let's go." I stood up, grabbing her hand and running out to the dock.

"Woah, are they serious?" I heard someone ask from behind me, followed by "Two for the price of one!"

It was pouring outside, and in a couple of seconds, Bridgette and I were completely soaked through. "Sadie!" I called back. "Make sure those guys stay on the shore, not the dock!"

It was rainy enough that we'd just be silhouettes in the distance from their point of view, and as the two of us stood on the edge of the dock, I couldn't help but feel high on the adrenaline coursing through my veins. This was, up until that point in time, the most reckless thing I had ever done. And I couldn't stop smiling.

"It's gonna be so cold, Courtney," Bridgette said, looking down at the water below us.

"It already is, Bridgette," I laughed.

She looked at me worriedly. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, I didn't mean to pressure you into it, it wasn't your dare . . ."

I looked behind me to make sure that none of the boys had stepped foot on the dock. They were as close as they could get without touching it, and I could only see each of their outlines. The sheets of rain were too thick to see any details. I laughed at the self-restraint they must've been calling upon, only keeping their distance out of fear that if they took another step closer, we'd back out.

I turned my gaze back to Bridgette, shivering. "On the count of three, strip?"

She nodded, eyes wide.

"One," I started.

"Two," she replied.

"Three," we said together, and I pulled my sweater over my head and tugged my shorts down, throwing both in a soaked pile on the dock and taking care not to turn around.

Bridgette finished almost as quickly as I did, starting the next count herself hastily. "One."

"Two," I responded more quickly.

"Three," she screamed. And we jumped, forming cannonballs as we fell.

When I reached the surface, I heard Bridgette scream. "Oh my God!"

"_Fuck_, it's cold!" I laughed, moving to grab a hold of the dock and perching there, my chest and everything south of it staying underwater. "Towels, Sadie!" I screamed.

She was back in an instant, and covered us as we pulled ourselves up onto the dock and wrapped ourselves in the soaked towels. We grabbed our clothing, and sprinted back up to the cabin, passing the boys as we went.

"I think it's safe to say, Courtney and I win!" Bridgette called back to them. I giggled, both at her comment and the fact that the four of them still seemed completely stunned by what had just happened. "Goodnight!" she called, and we made our way into our cabin to warm up, dry off, and change into fresh clothes.

It was a magnificent and rare occasion, that night – like witnessing a flash of volcanic lightening or seeing bioluminescence for the first time. I allowed myself to let my hair down for once, and it felt exciting and new, a breath of fresh air. I had done so before, occasionally with friends, on sleepovers or at parties. I knew, though, as I lied down to sleep that night, that while living in color was fun, it wasn't sustainable. I couldn't make a habit of it, nor did I really want to at that point in time. Staying like that, so completely out of control, on any type of regular basis, would've kill me. But those moments of spontaneity, however infrequently they took ahold of me, were important, too. Without them, I would've cracked under all the pressure I put on myself to be in control, to be perfect.

It was an addictive feeling, giving up control, and for a sixteen-year-old perfectionist, I managed it well. I didn't do it enough at the time to really know how strong its effects could be.

I made a lot of choices throughout my time on Total Drama that I would come to regret, but letting a few strands of hair down that night was never one of them.


	8. Chapter 7: Snap

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: I apologize in advance for this chapter being a little on the short side, but I've got a lot planned for the next chapter, so stay tuned!**

Chapter 7 – Snap

The next few days came and went, and I resumed my regular role of Miss Follow-the-Rules without incident; no one seemed too surprised, and as aside from a couple of crude jokes on Duncan's part on Sunday morning, there was no mention of our game of Truth or Dare. The world continued to turn over after its brief pause, and everything was back to its normal shades of black and white, exactly how it was supposed to be.

It was a sunny Tuesday, the day after the paintball deer challenge, and we were lined up on the end of the dock sprawled out on our towels – Sadie, me, Bridgette, LeShawna, Gwen (with an umbrella over her head), and Beth. Bridgette had suggested that morning that we invite the three girls from the gopher team over, and while I wasn't too excited about the prospect of inter-team mingling, it was nice to have some different company for once. After three weeks of bunking with Sadie and Bridgette, I was beginning to cherish every conversation that didn't begin with "Oh my gosh! This one time . . ." or "I read on PETA the other day . . ."

"I cannot _believe _you guys opened fired on Heather!" Bridgette enthused, admiration clear in her voice.

"I know," Gwen tacked on, gloomily. "I wish I could've gotten a shot in."

"That challenge was so boring! I wish I wasn't chosen to be a deer. I hardly saw anyone the entire time," I complained.

"At least you got to spend some time with your boyfriend," LeShawna began, her gaze remaining locked on the sky.

I freaked, sitting up on my towel. "My _what_?"

"LeShawna, don't," Bridgette warned, sitting up, but it was too late.

"I don't know what you see in that white boy anyway. You're going places, girl. Him on the other hand . . . he's got a cell waiting on him the minute he turns eighteen."

My blood was boiling at this point, completely enraged. "Okay, just to set matters straight, Duncan and I are _not_ together, in any way, shape, or form of the word. I can't stand being around him. I can't stand anything _about _him. He's insolent, nasty, irritating, not to mention completely infuriating. So I don't _see_ anything in him. What on God's earth gave you that idea in the first place?"

From the look on her face, she was not expecting me to lash out as much as I did. "Girl, I'm sorry, I just thought –"

"Well, you thought wrong," I cut her off, jumping up from the dock and grabbing my towel. I walked back to the cabin, fuming the entire way.

As luck would have it, I ran into Duncan as I was approaching the steps. "Hey, Princess. Care to join me for a dip in the lake? Clothing optional?" He winked.

"Oh, for once in your life, leave me alone!" I screamed at him, my voice dangerously on the verge of breaking.

I ran up the stairs to my cabin and slammed the door shut, leaving him bewildered on the front steps.

I collapsed on my bunk and started to cry. Out of anger, out of frustration, out of confusion. Why had LeShawna thought that we were together? We certainly didn't act like a couple – just the day before, I had landed a swift kick to his package on national television. Sure, he teased me, but he was a pig. And I rejected all of his advances, every single one. Yes, we sometimes got along, whether it was laughing at Harold's misfortune or working together on a challenge, but we were teammates. Those were things that teammates did. I couldn't help, however, but think of all the time recently we had been spending together: sitting across from each other at meals, walking back from the main lodge together, talking in between challenges. It was as if in each informal spare second that we had, we gravitated towards one another without realizing it. And then I was crying because I realized that it had all snuck up on me so fast. I only really thought about how much time we had been spending together upon looking back. He was like quicksand, sucking me in each time I chose not to walk away, each time I chose to say something snarky back or let him assume his role beside me in a challenge. I hated that despite me desperately attempting to avoid him, he had wrapped himself around me anyway. I had no control.

And there was something else in the moment that had me crying, too. Something LeShawna said was making me feel even more miserable. _"You're going places, girl. Him on the other hand . . ."_ It was everything I had been telling myself since my second day on the island. That even if in some strange and highly unlikely turn of events we found ourselves together, it would never last. Any concept of an "us" was impossible; it might work for a few weeks on a reality T.V. show, but when we left, I would return to my private school life filled with country clubs and dinner parties, and he would return to his dingy life of partying and petty crime. There was nothing I could do.

After what must've been an hour, I eventually calmed down, and decided to go for a run to find some solitude, peace, and quiet and to work out all of the horrible feelings that were still plaguing me. I changed into a green tank top, grey running shorts, and black Nike's and ran.

I ran for hours and hours, until the sky turned orange, then pink, then purple, then black. I ran until all of my feelings had been purged and there was nothing left inside me except a dull ache of hollowness. I ran until I forgot about LeShawna's comment, until I forgot about what I was crying for, until I forgot about _him_.


	9. Chapter 8: Recklessness

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Thank-you bocawitch for your great review on the last two chapters and for noticing the Parent Trap inspo that went into it! As soon as I had the girls playing poker, I knew exactly where I wanted it to go from there. This next chapter took me a little while to write out, and it draws a lot of inspiration from both the first Twilight book and a little bit from Harry Potter, two of my all time favorite series, so I hope you enjoy! And, as always, hit that review button if you do!**

Chapter 8 – Recklessness

It was a Friday night, and things were shaping up to make a pretty good weekend for us Bass. Having won the cooking challenge, we spent the night before indulging on delicious food under the stars. Everyone was in the highest of spirits, and we had spent our first of two days off swimming off the dock and canoeing with a few members of the other team.

It was around midnight when everyone called it a night, campers heading back to their respective cabins and readying themselves for bed. I was exhausted from spending a day in the sun, and fully expected to fall asleep within seconds, which is exactly what happened.

What I was not expecting, however, was that my night was far from over.

I jolted awake, two large hands shaking my shoulders until my eyes popped open, wide with surprise and fear. I sucked in a quick breath, preparing to scream, when one of those hands moved to cover my mouth, and the other brought a single finger over my assailant's lips. Duncan was crouching over me, signaling me to be quiet.

I sat up, hitting my head on the top bunk as I did so, his hand still over my mouth, and the other moving to steady my shoulder. While one of my hands flew to my injury, my brow furrowed. I felt aggravated, but mostly confused. My eyes darted over to my alarm clock – 2:14 A.M. What was Duncan doing waking me so early?

Without a word, the hand that was on my shoulder moved to my bicep, and he yanked me out of bed, leading the pair of us out the door. All the while, his other hand stayed clamped over my mouth. As soon as we were out of the cabin, I bit into it – _hard_.

"Damn it, Courtney!" He snatched his hand away, and massaged it with his other, bringing it to his mouth and sucking on it. I must've drawn blood.

"You better have a really good explanation for what just happened," I told him, arms crossed.

"_We,_" he began, smugly. "Have business to attend to."

"At two in the morning?" I scoffed, turning around to go back to bed.

He grabbed my forearm and swung me back around. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Don't you even want to know why I woke you in the first place?"

"Not really," I lied, shrugging nonchalantly.

"What we're doing tonight will make you a better competitor," he bargained in a sing-song voice.

"Did Bridgette tell you that works on me? Because it doesn't," I lied again, attempting to tug my arm out of his iron-grip.

"Okay, look, how about this: if you come with me tonight, I'll vote with you in the next challenge we win."

I froze. Now _that_ was interesting. "You'll vote for anyone I ask you to?" I clarified.

"Anyone," he nodded.

"Even you?" I asked.

"What? Come on, Court, don't push it."

I paused. "How do I know you'll actually do it?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me." He raised his eyebrows, as if daring me to refuse his offer.

He could've been lying. But if he was telling the truth, my vote would essentially count for double. I didn't really have any idea of who I wanted to go at that point, but by Sunday's challenge, that could change.

It was too good an offer to pass up. "_Fine_," I huffed, and he let go of my arm. "What are we doing?"

He smiled, starting to walk towards the path in the forest, and I followed him.

"That, princess, is a surprise."

As we walked through the woods, I interrogated him more thoroughly.

"We're not doing anything illegal, are we?" I asked.

He snickered. "Not tonight, babe."

"And nothing sexual or explicit?"

"Well it's not on the agenda, but if you want, we could always make time for it," he waggled his eyebrow suggestively.

I huffed. "And we're not breaking any camp rules?"

"Nope," he popped.

A thought struck me then, and I froze. He heard my footsteps disappear and stopped walking to turn around to face me. "You're not going to murder me, are you?" I asked, all of a sudden unsure.

He rolled his eyes, and returned to walking. "God, woman, I said we weren't doing anything illegal."

"_Sorry_," I muttered, jogging a few paces to catch up to him. "I was watching a lot of _Law and Order _before I came here."

"That's not healthy," he joked.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

The rest of our trek through the woods was clouded with silence, a few jokes or comments here and there. As we deviated from the main path a little, he strode ahead a bit and held rogue branches out of my way for me to walk through. These exchanges, too, were completed wordlessly – him not really knowing how to be a gentleman, me not really knowing how to say 'thank-you,' both of us feeling at least a little awkward with this pseudo-romantic interaction.

When I felt the ground beneath us begin to slope upward, I looked at him suspiciously. "A surprise, remember?" He grinned.

After a full hour of trekking, we had finally reached our destination – the peak of the mountain on Wawanakwa. I stayed a good ten feet back from the edge of the cliff. "What the hell, Duncan! You promised you weren't going to murder me, remember?"

"Just look up, Court," he directed.

"What?" I asked, confused.

He sighed, his hand pointing toward the sky, "Look up."

I huffed and did as he asked. "I don't see why- Oh."

My voice faltered as I saw it. The moon was a sliver in the corner of the sky, barely casting enough light for us to have made it up the cliff in the first place. But the stars were magnificent. There were thousands, some twinkling brighter than others, and the view was breathtaking.

"I don't really look at the stars that much," he murmured, moving to lie down on a soft patch of grass. "But I've never seen them look like this at home."

Keeping my eyes on the sky, I lay down next to him. "It must be the lack of light pollution," I mused, mostly speaking to myself. "And the moon isn't too bright tonight, so it isn't flooding out the light of the stars." I felt his eyes on me, and turned my head to the right to face him. "What?" I asked again, but this time there wasn't an ounce of hostility to it.

He didn't say anything, and we stayed like that for a while – less than 6 inches of space between the tips of our noses, two pairs of eyes searching one another. I was exceedingly aware of how small the gap was between our lips, and I could see his chest rise and fall delicately, along with the slight movement of his bottom lip, with each breath he took.

He looked wary, as if treading new waters, waiting for me to jump up or protest or burst into a screaming fit at the blink of an eye. But I couldn't. Yes, there was still a part of my head that told me to get away from him as soon as possible, that this was unsafe, like swimming with a great white or hanging around a lion in the wild. But this part of my brain was overpowered by a stronger urge to remain exactly where I was, completely still. I was toeing the line; another step closer and I might be toast. The closer I got, though, the more adrenaline rushed through my veins, the more beautiful the phenomenon seemed. It was reckless, treacherous even, but I wanted to be close to him. And so I drew a new line – as long as our lips didn't touch, I would be okay, I wouldn't fall out of control.

Everything around the two of us fell out of focus as we lay there – sure, the stars in the sky were magnificent that night, but there were stars in his eyes, too, ones that I hadn't seen before. His icy blue orbs glittered like diamonds, sparkling in different places with each blink.

The stillness was broken slightly, when he lifted a hand. His movements were slow, as if he was attempting to pet a wild animal, and I kept my eyes locked on his as his fingers grazed my cheek. My breathing sped up slightly, and he paused, but as it returned to normal, his fingers resumed the motion. It was odd, I thought, that he was being so cautious, so careful and calculating. And then I wondered if maybe he felt the same as I did – that the concept of the two of us was so outlandish and far-fetched that it was a risk for him, as well.

His hand stopped moving to rest on my cheek, and he shifted closer and began to lean in slowly, his eyes wide open, surveying my own.

And the moment was gone in an instant. Foreseeing what he was about to do, I feared that the gravity between the two of us would've been too much, and I would've been sucked in, losing all control over my actions. I jumped up and took several steps back, leaving him dazed on the ground. He sat up, "Courtney, I . . ."

"It's okay," I said, my voice shaking a tad. "Really." It wasn't his fault. Sharing a kiss would have been a natural progression from that point. "I just . . . we just . . . I can't." I finished more firmly. I gave him a look that tried to convey everything I had been feeling up until that point.

He stood up. "That line that you draw that you won't allow yourself to cross – it's all in your head. You do know that, right?" He pressed, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

So he did know. "You have no idea what you're talking about." I glared at him.

"No, Courtney," he laughed humorlessly. "_You_ have no idea what you're talking about. Would it really be so terrible to just admit it?"

"Admit what?" I spat back at him.

"Admit that you like me! I know it, Geoff knows it, Bridgette knows it, everyone knows it!" He raised his voice, throwing his hands in the air.

I was backed into a corner. "Right, you just _have_ to assume that every girl is bound to fall for you, and that no one could possibly resist your good looks and boyish charm. You are so arrogant!"

"And you're being a coward!" He shot back.

"How dare you!" I screamed at him. "I can't look at you right now." I began to descend the cliff.

I ran back to the cabin, our hour-long hike taking just fifteen minutes to return, Duncan trailing me the whole way.

"Don't pretend like you won't regret walking away the minute you get back inside your cabin, Courtney!" He yelled.

"What? Is that what you think?" I raged, turning to face him.

"Yeah, it is what I think."

"Then you know what the solution is? Next time you want to do something with just the two of us, don't force things to move too fast or push me before I'm ready!" I could feel tears weld in my eyes, and I willed them away, but it was too late.

I could hear campers emerge from the cabins warily, stepping onto the porch to see what all the commotion was.

"You need pushing, Courtney!"

"Leave me alone, Duncan!" I moved to walk up the porch steps into the Bass cabin.

"What happened, Dude?" I heard Geoff whisper.

"They get scary when they're tired," I heard Duncan say back.

I whipped around, running up to him and Geoff who flinched and retreated to their side of the cabin. "Duncan, you spoiled everything!" I cried out. They ran into their cabin, and I walked back into mine, going to my bunk, and pulling the covers over my head. I could feel Sadie and Bridgette's eyes on me, but they were either smart enough or scared enough not to try and comfort me at the time. I pulled my pillow closer to my head, and quietly sobbed myself to sleep.


	10. Chapter 9: Swept Away

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Hello, everyone! This is the longest chapter yet, and I am so so here for it! Thanks again for the awesome reviews, they mean the world to me, and make it SOO much easier to get writing. I spent a **_**super **_**long time on this chapter in particular, please let me know what you think!**

Chapter 9 – Swept Away

The next few days dragged on, and Duncan and I slipped back into our usual dynamic of constant bickering, only pausing hostilities on occasion to complain about Chris or anyone else who we found equally irritating. And then, as we would realize what was happening, a new argument would surface, and we'd be back to square one. Bridgette had tried to ask me about what happened on Friday night, but each time she brought it up, I pushed her away, and she didn't fight it. Duncan and I proceeded to act as if the entire ordeal had never happened; looking back, both of us had something to apologize for, and neither one of us would swallow our pride long enough to do so.

My frosty attitude towards him didn't really let up until Sunday's challenge, when I found out that he went out of his way to get a new bunny for D.J. I couldn't help but feel a little more optimistic after this new discovery – that Duncan's tough-guy, bully façade really was actually just an act. I felt I was party to a piece of top-secret information, like I knew him more than anyone else on the island. It was an intimate feeling, and for a few hours, all of my animosity toward him dissipated.

It was Sunday night, before the marshmallow ceremony, when I resigned to bring up the awful event that we'd both been avoiding for nearly two days. "You're still voting with me, right?" I asked him, approaching him as he was sitting on the bass porch steps, carving a skull into the handrail.

"Huh?" He questioned, pausing for a moment to admire his handy work and then looking up at me.

I rolled my eyes and blew a rogue strand of hair out of my face. "If I went with you the other night, you promised I could have your vote, too, if we lost today," I reminded him.

"Oh," he began, obviously remembering more about that night than just that particular conversation. "Who do you want to vote off?"

"While Harold has been more than slightly bothersome lately, _Sadie_," her name rolled out sardonically, "gave me a concussion today."

He nodded mutely, returning to his vandalism.

"So?" I asked impatiently, afraid he was going to take back his word, which would undoubtedly lead to another shouting match. "Are you going to go back on your word or not?"

He stood up and walked over to me, looking me dead in the eye, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I don't break my promises. Not to you, at least."

And then he walked away, toward the confession cam to cast his vote, leaving me completely dumbfounded at the sincerity in his voice and his lack of use of a single pet name.

Bridgette and I were getting ready to leave our side of the cabin for dinner the next day, when she addressed me. "So . . . you're on your own tonight, Court," she said.

"What?" I turned back to her confused.

"Geoff and I are going camping together for the night, just to, you know, get away from everything . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"Oh," I said awkwardly. She had really sprung this one up on me. "I thought you hated the woods."

"I do! But we're taking a tent out to the beach. One of the more secluded ones," she added. I couldn't tell if she was nervous or excited.

"Was this his idea or yours?" I asked skeptically. I knew how sixteen-year-old boys could be, and they usually had one thing on their mind that was prioritized more than anything else.

"It was a mutual thing," she shrugged, knowing what my question had implied.

"_O-kayy_," I drawled in a sing-song voice. "As long as you wouldn't do anything I wouldn't do."

She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't exactly give me a very large window of opportunity, Courtney." I pouted, preparing to lecture her, but she cut me off. "Okay, okay, I'll be good. Thanks, Mom," she rolled her eyes.

I stuck my tongue out at her, and she laughed.

Chris showed up for dinner, which surprised everyone; he usually only appeared on the island on challenge days. "Congratulations, campers!" He called out as he walked in, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Nice purse," Duncan scoffed, eying the man-bag he had slung over one shoulder.

"It's a _satchel_," Chris corrected, scowling at the teenage delinquent. His voice changed back into its typical television show host, overly-peppy tone. "You guys are now officially four weeks into the competition – halfway closer to the grand prize of _$100,000_!"

His exclamation was met with "woo-hoos!" and "yeahs!" from the twelve teenagers left in the room.

"Now since this is the longest some of you kiddos have ever been away from home and we've noted that homesickness has been a recurring theme in your confessionals, the producers and I have decided that you all deserve a little treat!" He opened his satchel and pulled out a stack of envelopes from within. "Letters from home!"

Everyone in the room straightened up at this announcement – even Duncan, I noticed from the corner of my eye. My stomach was all of a sudden filled with anticipation. While I was nervous about what my parents might say after watching the first few episodes of the show (since the show only aired once a week, they must've only been three or four episodes in), I did find myself missing them terribly. Though we didn't spend much time together, they were usually home at breakfast and in time for a late dinner, prepared by our housemaid Maria. I missed the small talk we usually engaged in, revolving around resume building, my mother's new case, or the latest political engagement my father found himself in. I waited excitedly as Chris called up camper names, one by one, as each went to collect their letter.

"Let's see . . . Bridgette, D.J., Heather, Owen, Harold, Duncan– " I watched him stand up nonchalantly and retrieve his letter, but he tore it open as soon as he sat down, just like everyone else, smiling slightly as his eyes grazed over the paper. I smiled to myself, thinking about how it was just another time he let his tough-guy act slip when he thought no one was looking. ". . . Trent, Gwendolyn–"

"Give me that," Gwen snatched her letter out of his hand, cheeks blushing scarlet at what I assumed was the use of her full name.

"Lindsay, Sadie – oops, that's embarrassing –" Chris laughed, realizing she had been voted off the night before. He put her letter back in his man-bag and continued ". . . Geoff, and . . . LeShawna."

My face fell. "So that's it, everyone," Chris said cheerily. "Enjoy, because Wednesday's challenge is gonna be _brutal_." He let out that sadistic laugh of his, then waltzed out of the lodge.

After the shock had worn off and I regained feeling in my lower limbs, I strode out of the mess hall as quickly as I could and made my way back to my cabin, everyone too engrossed in their letters to notice. I picked up speed as I continued walking, then jogging, then running, until I finally collapsed on the floor near my bed. I was softly crying when I heard the door behind me open quietly.

I wiped my tears quickly. "Bridgette, I– oh." My voice cut out as I turned and saw Duncan standing awkwardly near the door, his letter sticking out of his pocket.

"What do you want?" I stood up and tried to muster my usual tone of bitterness, but the words came out sounding curt and crestfallen instead.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly, ignoring my question.

I put on my best smile and nodded. "I'm fine. Really."

He stepped closer to me. "Do you . . . want to talk about it?" He asked hesitantly, as if the words were foreign to him.

"There's nothing to talk about," I brushed him off, not meeting his eyes. "They're busy right now." I sat on the edge of my bunk.

He took a seat next to me. "They haven't seen you in a month, Courtney."

"It was a busy month," I shot back at him, my voice taking a harsher tone.

He stayed quiet for a moment, and then tried again, "I kind of know how you feel. My dad really doesn't give a shit about me."

This set me off. I stood up once again. "No, you don't know how I feel! Your dad doesn't give a shit about you because you constantly make his life more difficult! I do _everything _to please my parents, I try so hard to be a _perfect _daughter, and they still –" I stopped abruptly, shook my head, and started again. "My parents love me. I don't know about yours, but mine do."

He watched my whole tirade with wide eyes, but said nothing to argue with me.

We stayed staring at each other for a little while, until he said something I wasn't expecting to hear. "Want to read my letter?"

"I – what?" I was caught off guard.

"Here," he pulled it out of his pocket, and I slowly took a seat next to him again on my bunk. He handed the letter to me, crossing his legs on the bed and moving to face me. "It's from my Ma. She can be a little embarrassing at times, so don't hold it against me or anything like that . . ."

I stopped listening to him as I sat cross-legged on my bed and began reading the letter.

_Duncan,_

_ We miss you so much here at home, sweetie! Your father won't admit it outright, but at breakfast this morning he was saying how it felt a little too quiet around here these days, and I just know he can't wait for you to come home – not that we want you to get eliminated! I have every faith that you'll beat out all of those other contestants._

_ We've tuned in here at home every Sunday night and have seen the first four episodes so far. Congratulations on winning that dodgeball game! Your team looks very sweet! Try to play nice, especially with the boy with the glasses – I know you have a great sense of humor, but, honey, sometimes you do take things a little too far. _

_ And be good to that smart girl with the brown hair on your team, too! Your father says he thinks her name is Courtney. She doesn't look like she's afraid to stand up to you in the slightest. Try not to give her too hard of a time. She seems very nice (and very pretty, too!)._

_ We love you so much, Dunky! I just want you to know how proud of you we are. You're our baby boy, and we love and miss you so much._

_ Try your best, and we can't wait to have you home again._

_ Love,_

_ Mom_

I couldn't keep from smiling at certain parts of the letter, specifically when his mom had mentioned Harold and called him 'Dunky,' and overall at how genuine she seemed to be. I was not expecting myself to come up at all, and seeing that I had a whole paragraph dedicated to myself made my stomach flip over. It was not, however, until I got to the part where she told him how proud she was of him, that I started to cry.

Duncan had fallen into silence as I was reading his letter, his face studying mine carefully as I went. When tears began falling, he put a tentative arm around me, and I fell into his chest, sobbing.

"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay. It's okay," he repeated, holding me with one arm, and stroking my hair with another. He sounded both perplexed and caring, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do, but wanted to help regardless.

We stayed like that for a while, until I ran out of tears and calmed down. "I'm sorry," I ended up sniffling, pulling away from him and wiping my eyes. I attempted a small smile, trying to play off my vulnerability. "That was really embarrassing."

He watched me intently. "You don't have to be so put together all the time, you know? It's okay to be . . . sad sometimes."

My eyes turned back to his, and I could see the seriousness in them. He looked at me like he was hoping he had said the right thing and was urging me to trust him. I was hesitant to do so. The slope we were on still felt treacherous, dangerous for reasons I wouldn't know until I found myself face to face with them. So much could go wrong with him, and it felt like heartbreak was almost a guaranteed ending. But I realized sitting there across from him that a part of me . . . _liked_ that feeling. It was both a rush and a relief not to have something in my life be perfect for once – and the concept of the two of us together was far from it.

We spent the rest of the night talking – about serious things, about joking things, about his family back home and my own. Things that we hadn't spoken about before because they carried with them the unspoken message of 'I care about you and who you are.' His parents were the most embarrassing people on the planet; they used to be a children's singing duo called Banana's and Cheese when he was a toddler, and he was always mortified of them. But he was a total mamma's boy. He was the youngest of three boys, and his older brothers were troublemakers, as well. He had a huge extended family that loved getting together around holidays. He dyed his hair green as a kid because it was his second favorite color – next to piercing silver. He knew how to play the guitar well, but would never show it off like Trent did. He was ambidextrous, but preferred to use his left hand. He had a dog named Petey when he was little, but he ran away; Duncan, at the time, was heartbroken. I was paying him rapt attention as he told stories, filing away all the information in my brain that told me who he was. Not _what _he was, for the world seemed to have already figured that out for him, labeling him as a delinquent and not bothering to see anything more than that. But _who _he was. The person behind the label.

I followed each of his stories with one of my own: that despite my parents pushing me to succeed, I really did want to be a lawyer and a politician – I was opinionated and good at arguing. I was lactose intolerant, but my second favorite food was ice cream. I was deathly afraid of log rides and was allergic to the pollen in most flowers. When I admitted that my favorite color was green, my cheeks flamed red, but Duncan didn't tease me about it too much. And I could sense that as I was speaking that he was doing the same – sorting through all the information in his head that made me _me_ – not the uptight, aggressive, Type-A competitor that everyone else saw, but a person with likes and dislikes, hopes and fears. I had never had someone pay such close attention to me, asking questions here and there, wanting me to further explain a story or tidbit of information out of genuine interest. And at that point, I couldn't decide if getting swept away was my choice or something out of my control altogether. But I decided that it didn't matter.

We were pulled out of our bubble at midnight, when the alarm next to my bed beeped to signal the time. We both looked over, thinking the same thing.

He cleared his throat. "I, uh, should probably get going." He stood off the bed.

"Right," I agreed, pulling my knees up to my chest. He made his way to the door.

"Duncan," I called out hesitantly when he reached for the handle. He turned around, a vaguely hopeful expression on his face. "Stay?" I asked in a voice nothing more than a whisper, never in my life feeling more vulnerable.

I saw a flash of indecision cloud his features, but it disappeared in an instant. He flicked off the lightswitch near the door, and walked back over to me, kicking off his shoes and taking off his shirt carefully. The moonlight lit up his porcelain skin, and I found it difficult to turn away. I scooched over toward the wall to make room for him on the twin-sized bunk, and tucked myself under the covers. He crawled in carefully, our bodies fusing together in a spoon fashion as I faced the wall. He rested a hand on my arm delicately.

Our relationship with each other was like a living being – it appeared from the outside to be nothing but skin and bone, simple and doomed to perish, but when you got a closer look, it was much more complex than that. He was a frictional force in my life, stopping the pace of perfectionism and making it impossible for me to continue living as I did before I knew him.

"This . . . this doesn't mean I like you," I said rather unconvincingly, his arm around me, still facing the wall. It was a gut instinct, but I knew as I said it the words no longer held any truth.

To my surprise, he just chuckled. "Sure, princess."

"Seriously, Duncan," I squirmed in his grip, trying to turn around and face him, but he wouldn't budge. "If you say one word about this, I'll tell everyone about the bunny thing."

I felt him tense up. "Fine," he sighed. "Deal." He paused before continuing in a voice so quiet I almost didn't hear him. "If this wasn't a risk, none of it would be worth it in the first place."

Whether he was reminding himself or telling me, he was right: nothing safe was worth the drive. The risk lay in falling more deeply, and if I hadn't fallen for him, there would have been no reason for either of us to bother in the first place. I wanted to tell him right then and there that I wanted to see him, to date him, out of the competition. That I wanted there to be an 'us.' That I would have followed him anywhere, because that was the first night in my life I knew it was true. That I really did . . . like him. A lot.

But instead, I closed my eyes and fell asleep against the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest, and for that moment, it was enough.


	11. Chapter 10: Playa de Romance

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for the amazing reviews on the last chapter - I'm so happy to hear that you all are enjoying the story so far! I've got some pretty big plans for telling Duncan and Courtney's story in between season 1 and 2 - I always envisioned there to be a year in between the two seasons, seeing as sixteen-year-olds do have to go to school at **_**some point**_**, and Fresh TV's timelines are a little funky. If at any point you're getting confused during the story, don't hesitate to let me know, and I'll for sure put my tentative timeline out there. It isn't too confusing, so I don't think it should be too much of a problem. Anyways, thank-you as always for reading! There hasn't been too much arguing in between this chapter and the last update, but don't worry ya'll, it's Duncney, so just when everything gets going good, something will be sure to throw a wrench in between their relationship. Without further ado, and because the sound of my own rambling is starting to annoy me, here's Chapter 10!**

Chapter 10 – Playa de Romance

Everything had happened so quickly. One minute I was on top of the world, having admitted my feelings to Duncan and feeling as if we were the only two people on the island, and the next I was riding the Boat of Losers home. I cursed myself mentally for letting my guard down.

When I arrived at Playa de Losers, I was initially stunned by the resort itself, but swiftly got over it. Upon my arrival, the producers thought they should "let me know" that it had been Harold who had stuffed the votes because he wanted to get back at Duncan for pranking him. My grief quickly turned into vengeance, and I spent my first few days on the island working with my lawyers to get a lawsuit going against the show for a 'wrongful termination' case. If they could treat the show as a job – which technically, it was, considering its fiscal and societal impacts on my personal life – then it would be a shoe in; my termination on the show had likely breached the contract I had originally signed onto.

When Harold arrived on the island just a day after I did, he became the new target of my frustrations. He hid from me for over two weeks until I finally found him, which made me even angrier; if I had enacted my revenge on his first day at the resort, then maybe I could have spent the rest of my time there relaxing and hanging out with other campers – while checking up on my ongoing legal case, of course. Several of the contestants had tried to dissuade me from my course of retribution, but it was no use – until Harold had gotten what he deserved, I found myself unable to focus on anything else. My brain switched into a mode of tunnel vision. Not only had he cost me my chances of winning $100,000 (it wouldn't have been much trouble to go far with Duncan as an ally – look how long he lasted on his own!), but he had also cost me the chance of seeing what would have happened to me in another four weeks of letting my hair down. Maybe it would have been nothing. Maybe I would've come to my senses in a day and made a full return to Type-A, perfectionistic Courtney. But there was also a chance that in another four weeks, I could have changed to be a full-time version of the Courtney that I was in the last challenge I competed in – the more laid-back, impulsive Courtney. Or maybe I would've come to find a happy medium between the two. Regardless, I hated Harold for taking those possibilities away from me.

And then there was the Duncan thing. I hated Harold for taking away everything that might have happened between the two of us in another four weeks on the island. We weren't even really a couple – I mean, sure, we had kissed and were definitely each other's romantic interests, but we hadn't even had enough time to discuss what we actually were. And before I could even fathom how to bring the topic up, I was whisked away from him and dropped off on some stupid beach resort, left to contemplate all the reasons why something between us wouldn't work back in the real world – all the things that being around him stopped me from thinking about. It felt as if each day without him we were taking a step back in all the progress we'd made together.

After I finally found Harold and had painfully twisted a streetlamp around him, which I figured was a decent enough way to take all of my pent-up frustrations out on him, it was another four days until Duncan had arrived. I spent most of my time hanging around the pool with LeShawna, as she was one of few people whose company I actually grew to enjoy and Bridgette was too busy making out with her new boyfriend to spend much time with anyone else.

"You comin' to the dock, girl?" LeShawna asked, moving from her beach chair next to mine. It was another elimination night, and everyone at camp usually gathered around the end of the dock to welcome in the next surprise loser.

"No, I'm good," I smiled back at her, feeling my stomach do a little backflip. I spent the first few elimination nights on Playa de Losers standing anxiously at the end of the dock with everyone else, secretly hoping to see a flash of neon green in the distance. I grew sick of the teasing from other campers ("We know who _you_ can't wait to see, Courtney"), the disappointment when I realized it wasn't him, and the guilt I harbored each time for the part of me that hoped he'd lose so we could spend more time together before returning to the real world. And what would I say if it was him? How would I act? Would he forget about everything that happened a few weeks prior and write it off as a summer fling? _Or worse_, came a voice from the back of my mind. _He could've cozied up to Gwen or Heather while you were gone_.

"Are you sure? Could be your boy," LeShawna teased in a sing-song voice. I just shook my head, the butterflies in my stomach moving too vivaciously for me to say something snappy back. LeShawna had told me several times over the past few days that Duncan still had it bad for me, even after I was gone. While I wasn't one hundred percent sure I could believe her, it still was nice to hear, and her assurances eased some of my anxieties by even the smallest amount.

I picked up _Wuthering Heights_, which I had been re-reading over the past few days, as LeShawna left for the dock. I willed myself to focus, but it was a futile attempt, and I ended up staring blankly at the pages in front of me.

"It's coming!" I heard voices begin talking excitedly in the distance, and I did my best to tune them out.

"Duncan!" Someone cried out. I shot up from my seat, looking over and seeing the boat a few feet away from the end of the dock. And there he was, duffle bag in one hand, preparing to step onto the dock the minute it landed. The green in his hair was fading some, and he looked a little worse for wear, but I couldn't help thinking that he was as attractive as ever. I felt myself stand up, and before I knew it, my feet were carrying me towards the dock. We locked eyes as soon as he got off the boat. I watched him take in a deep breath, but his exhale was masked with a mix between his signature smirk and a genuine smile. The look he gave me was all I needed for the corners of my lips to twist upward, and as he strode over to me, I picked up speed. I dropped my book and the towel that I was carrying with me, along with all of my worries, fears, and inhibitions, as I threw my arms around his neck and he pulled me into a tight hug. I kicked up my feet as he spun me around and whispered huskily in my ear, "Miss me?"

When he put me down, I pulled away, but he kept a tight grip on my hand, lacing our fingers together, as he made his way around, greeting a few people with a slap on the back or a "Hey, man." I couldn't contain the small but satisfied smile on my face as we made our way off the dock _together_. He had lost out on $100,000 a mere few hours beforehand, but in that moment, he made me feel like the grand prize.

"So you never answered my question."

It was nearing midnight, and Duncan and I were lying on top of my bed, me cuddling up to him as I did so many nights ago in the woods.

"Hmm?" I asked, redirecting my attention from our hands, which were interlocked and playing with each other idly, to his face. He was looking down at me smugly.

"Did you miss me?" He whispered.

I ran my tongue along my top teeth, debating how best to get out of answering, before I moved to kiss him again.

"Ah, ah, ah," he reprimanded, putting a finger over my lips to stop me.

"Ugh," I huffed, rolling off of him. "You're really gonna make me answer that?" Being with Duncan felt more natural than anyone I had spent time with before, romantically or otherwise, but I still didn't like admitting my feelings out loud; while instinct directed most of my physical behaviors around him, verbal confessions made my true feelings seem all the more real – which were still completely terrifying. His affinity for teasing me about them, too, didn't make it any easier.

"Of course, babe," he answered coolly, amusement clear in his expression.

I figured it was better to answer sarcastically. "Yes, of _course_ I missed you, I cried my eyes out every minute of every day, pining over when I'd get to see you again." My stomach twisted as I realized that there was some sense of truth behind the words.

He rolled his eyes, and pulled me back on top of him. "That's what I thought," he said smugly.

I scoffed. "You know, LeShawna told me _you_ missed me." My heartbeat picked up quickly, as a part of me feared what she had said wasn't true.

"Every day," he replied simply, pulling me down for another kiss.

The kisses we shared that night were different than any I'd ever experienced and much different than our first. They were passionate, hungry, and I could feel the cool metal of his tongue piercing as it roamed its way around my mouth. Each kiss was a battle for dominance, him pushing for control, me pushing back, surprising him at first, and leaving us both dizzy and out of breath by the time we pulled away. I had made-out with a few boys before, ex-boyfriends and homecoming dates, but never like this. Physical touch appeared to be our mutual love language, and it felt as if each kiss communicated something to the other. "I missed you" - "I want you" - "I need you" - "I'm afraid" - "Don't be afraid." Our communication filled the room, and I had never felt so connected to anyone in my life.

"Since when are you such great friends with LeShawna?" he asked in between make-out sessions.

"Since Bridgette and Geoff won't stop swapping spit for longer than a minute," I laughed, and he snickered.

We were silent for a moment, and I was pressed up against his chest. I looked away before I spoke. "I'm glad you're here now," I mumbled.

"What was that?" He asked teasingly, straightening up a little. "I didn't quite hear you."

"Stop it," I warned him, but the words fell out half as serious as I intended them to be.

He leaned down, and kissed my bangs. "Me too," he mumbled into my hair.

"What was that?" I snapped up, grinning. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Ha-ha, very funny," he quipped sarcastically, as I stood up on the bed, jumping around like a ten-year-old as I teased him. "Stop it, _stop_ it," he grumbled, both of us laughing. "Come here," he moved to his knees and tugged on one of my legs, leading me to fall on my knees opposite him.

My grin fell to a contented smile as I we stared at each other in silence, eyes communicating wordlessly how strongly we felt about each other. Seconds, minutes, or hours later – I wasn't quite sure – I broke the moment with a chaste kiss, and hopped up from the bed, moving to rummage through my drawers.

"_I_ am going to change for bed in the bathroom, _you,_" He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly perverted, but I cut him off. "Are going to stay out here while I do so." As I made my way to the bathroom of my on-suite, I turned back to him, and spoke in a softer voice. "You're welcome to stay if you want." I didn't give him time to answer before I closed the bathroom door.

When I walked out in my cropped pink tank top and matching short-shorts, he had already stripped down to his boxers. He was stood up looking out the window with his back to me. I felt my breath catch in my throat before he turned around.

I watched his eyes rake over my body before he looked at my face and grinned. "Time for bed?" He asked, raising his brow suggestively.

I rolled my eyes, crawling under the covers. "If you make me regret this in any way, shape, or form, I am gonna make you so miserable."

"Oh, relax," he said, snuggling up behind me, throwing his left arm around me, and pulling me closer toward him. I was suddenly aware of how little fabric we had between the two of us and where exactly my backside was pressed up against. The places around my midriff where his bare skin touched mine felt like they were on fire.

"Goodnight, princess," he mumbled. It occurred to me how tired he must have been.

I rolled my eyes, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that had long since taken flight. "Goodnight, ogre."

After a few minutes, his breathing became steadier, but his grip around my waist remained as tight as ever. Realizing he must've fallen asleep, I was able to relax a bit more, and eventually succumbed to unconsciousness myself.


	12. Chapter 11: Playa de Reality

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Hello again, everyone! Thanks for still being here, and your reviews on the last chapter! 8-year-old me was also so sad when Courtney got kicked off, my sister and I almost stopped watching the show - almost ;) This chapter is heavily inspired by Wuthering Heights and dedicated to my true loves Cathy and Heathcliff, if you haven't read it, put it on your list - it's a fantastic read!**

Chapter 11 – Playa de Reality

Duncan and I had just over a week together on Playa de Losers before we packed our bags and moved back home, and time had never moved so fast in my entire life. We spent our days (sans the day of the finale episode) by the pool laughing and playfully arguing with one another. Though we were obviously together at that point, no one seemed very surprised or even interested, and the only teasing about my feelings came from Duncan himself, which I didn't mind too much. Izzy, in fact, was the only one who had said anything at all: "Wow, you guys act like an old married couple!" At her comment, we both stopped our arguing briefly long enough to yell back at her completely in sync "No we don't!" and then continued on about whatever stupid thing we were grinding each other's gears about that time.

"Wuthering heights," Duncan announced, reading the cover of the book I was invested in. It was late, our second to last night on the island, and Duncan had essentially shacked up with me for the duration of his time at the resort. Our make-out sessions grew steadily more X-rated, but at that point in time, I was still, technically, a virgin. While taking things further with Duncan in the physical department terrified me, everything about him did; that was part of the appeal. Being with him made me feel things I never had before – emotionally or otherwise – and as our romantic rendezvous picked up pace, I felt an aching in the pit of my stomach urging me to keep going. It was both wildly frightening and breathtakingly thrilling. He was sweet, too, pausing to ask me initially if what he wanted to do was okay before he did so, and as soon as I gave him a nod or hum of approval, he was back at it as fast as lightening. I discovered that I, too, could make him just as weak at the knees and vulnerable, and this gave me a sense of pride like no other. I felt strong and worthwhile, as if I had something that he desperately needed, and I was in complete control of when to share it. It was a balancing act, like everything about our relationship – harmonizing give and take, control and vulnerability.

"What kind of title is that?" he scoffed, dragging me away from the page and my own thoughts.

"You might be able to answer that question yourself if you actually read books," I shook my head disdainfully.

"Hey, I read!" he protested.

My eyebrows shot to the sky as I looked at him incredulously, a smile dancing on the edge of my lips. "Name me _three_ books that you've read." He opened his mouth quickly, but I cut him off. "And comic books or _Playboy_'s don't count."

He rolled his eyes. "_Pet Sematary_, _The Exorcist_, and _American Psycho_," he shot off smugly, ticking his fingers as he went.

"Hmm, cultural," I remarked sarcastically.

"Yes, it fucking is cultural," he retorted.

I shook my head and tried to return to my book. A few seconds later, Duncan spoke again. "So, what's it about?"

I sighed, slightly annoyed at the realization that I would get no reading done whatsoever with him in my room, but responded anyway. "It's about two people who fall in love as kids, but the girl marries another man for wealth and status and that sort of thing, and the guy ends up becoming wealthy and seeks to take revenge on her and her husband's families." I looked at him strangely.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I shook the look off my face, replacing it with a sly smile. "I just didn't think you'd let me get that far without interrupting. I'm pleasantly surprised," I teased.

He made a face, but ignored my comment. "Read me something," he instructed.

I rolled my eyes, convinced that he had no interest in the book whatsoever, but picked out one of the quotes I had long since highlighted on the page in front of me. "'He shall never know I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made out of, his and mine are the same.'" My cheeks flamed red as I was reading, realizing that he was watching me intently as I did so, and I mentally kicked myself for choosing such a loaded, romantic quote.

"Read me something else," he commanded, when I stopped.

I was over-the-top embarrassed by that point. "You have eyes, you can read it yourself."

To my surprise, he pulled the book out of my hand, and flipped idly through the pages, stopping to read another highlighted quote. "'I gave him my heart, and he took and pinched it to death; and flung it back to me. People feel with their hearts, _Ellen_, and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.'" Despite the fact that he quoted the book with much exaggeration, placing a dramatic hand over his heart as he did so, it was like watching an unschooled man read Shakespeare perfectly his first time. I couldn't look away. He flipped through another few pages, eyes scanning. "God, these people are such downers. Cathy really is a terrible person."

This snapped me out of my trance. Cathy happened to be one of my favorite literary characters. "No, she's not. She couldn't listen to her heart, Heathcliff was too much of a risk."

"But she knew she was in love with him, right?" Duncan began. "She chose to go for someone else, some pretty rich boy, and then she goes and plays the victim when her true love comes back all suited up? She deserved to be miserable."

I grit my teeth. For some reason, my blood started to boil as I snatched the book out of his hands and threw it on my bedside table. "I don't want to argue with you about this anymore. We can have a full-on literary discussion _after_ you've actually read the book."

He scoffed. "Whatever, Courtney, I thought you wanted me to be more _scholarly_."

There it was. I hadn't said anything of the sort before in a more than joking manner, but our difference in backgrounds off the show was already posing problems, even when we were still so far from reality. And what could I say? I liked him for exactly who he was, despite the parts that annoyed me, but he didn't fit in my world, nor I in his. There was no place on the Courtney Hernandez-timeline for anyone who would distract me from my studies or wasn't going to live his life by-the-book. And what would it look like? I wanted to be Prime Minister one day, and I was pretty sure none of Kim Campbell's husbands had a Mohawk or piercings. There was no way I'd be voted into office with a less than cookie cutter partner.

We lay in silence for a while, before he cleared his throat and spoke again. "So, Owen's party sounds like it's gonna be pretty great."

I smiled, relieved for the change in conversation, as I turned to face him. "Yeah, winter break, right?"

"That's what he's planning for." He paused before continuing. "I was thinking . . . maybe . . . we could go together."

I stiffened. I knew we couldn't avoid talking about the future altogether, but I had been putting it off for as long as possible. The weeks I spent on the resort without him had given me time to think it through and come up with the only reasonable conclusion: any attempts to be together off the island would be futile. It would have been best if I could have distanced myself from him immediately once he was kicked off and let our fling end along with our time on Wawanakwa, but one night with him here and I knew there was no way that could happen –spending time with him without the pressures of the outside world felt too good, too natural. It was easy enough to push away my fears here, but once we left our geographically-incorrect tropical paradise, it would be far too difficult. And Duncan lived in Montreal; I lived in Ottawa. We were two hours apart from each other, and I didn't have time for a long-distance relationship when school started back up. It was impractical, inconvenient, especially during my junior year, which was the most important from a college admissions standpoint. If I was being totally honest with myself, no matter how much it hurt, we were probably never going to see each other again. My time with him would end in less than thirty-six hours, and I would have to write it off as the best summer fling in history. So I was spending our last week together indulging myself, knowing that both reality and my former straight-laced self would kick back in as soon as we said our goodbyes.

"Duncan," I sighed. "I really don't want to talk about this right now."

I silenced him in the best way I knew how – pulling him into a full on make-out session.

After a minute, he pulled away, his voice nothing but a whisper, eyes still closed as he spoke. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

My eyes snapped open, and I jumped up, moving to stand on the other side of the room. "God, Duncan," I put my head in my hands and shut my eyes, as if I could undo what had just occurred if I tried hard enough. "What was _that_?"

"What was what?" He asked confused, his cheeks turning pink as he looked over at me.

"We've known each other for _eight_ weeks, and now you're falling in love with me?" I asked exasperated. I was too thrown off by the notion to even acknowledge the butterflies in my stomach or the small part of the back of my mind that wanted to say it, too.

He was suddenly on the defensive, his cheeks burning red, voice turning to acid. "Well, sorry to have bothered telling you in the first place. I thought you'd be happy to hear it."

"You thought I'd be _happy_?"

"I didn't expect _this_!" Our voices were escalating, and the window in my room was gaped wide open; anyone outside or in their rooms with their windows' open, as well, would have heard the shouting match easily. I was too angry to think to close it.

"We live two hours apart from each other, we might never get too see each other again!" I yelled.

"I'll be out of juvie in another month, and then-"

I cut him off with a humorless laugh. "Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds? I told you this, I told you on the island that I _can't_, and you pushed me anyway."

"Well, you haven't exactly been complaining, princess," he shot back.

My cheeks flamed red with embarrassment and anger. "Because I came to terms with what this is – with what this has to be: a fling. And it's been less than two months and –"

He cut me off. "And I feel more strongly about you than girls I've known for years."

He was backing me into a corner. I had nowhere to run until the phone rang on my bedside table. We stared at each other for a moment, and then I broke away to answer it.

"Courtney Hernandez." I answered, trying to bring my voice back to a normal octave.

It was my lawyers. They had lost the lawsuit. The call ended about a minute later, and I slowly turned to face Duncan.

"Who was that?" he asked.

I chose not to answer him. "I think you should leave." I moved to the door, opening it for him.

He walked toward it, but stopped in front of me. "This is all kinds of wrong, Courtney. Even you should be able to see that."

I refused to make eye contact, and kept the door open for him.

When I didn't say anything, he huffed a great sigh, and stepped over the threshold. I saw him turn back around and run a hand through his green Mohawk before I closed the door and locked it.

I waited until I heard footsteps walk away, and then I slid down my door, bursting into tears and jagged sobs. The only thought I found myself able to coherently string together was '_This is how Cathy must feel._'


	13. Chapter 12: November

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Thank-you all for the reviews on the last chapter, and please, keep 'em coming! Sorry for making you wait a little longer for this chapter, but it's twice as long as anything else I've written, so you're in for a real treat. I should probably say that while I'm trying to update every 1-2 days, I'll let you know if I have to move on to anything longer than 4 days between updates, just so you can rest easily at night knowing that there's more D&C coming soon!**

Chapter 12 – November

Duncan and I didn't properly recover from our argument on Playa. The following day, he had decided to act as if it didn't happen, and I was all the more willing to play along. I couldn't help but notice, however, that our arguments and insults felt stiffer and more loaded than before, as if there was some hidden reason as to why we were both annoyed. While both of us knew it, we failed to acknowledge it. I spent the better part of the day wanting to go home and to be as far away from Duncan and that night as possible. I knew the cameras were rolling, but I couldn't help but be more uptight and snippier than usual.

When Chris announced that we'd be racing for a million dollars on our final afternoon at the resort, it took my mind off of everything that had gone wrong, even if it was for only just a little while. I had a new mission, a new purpose. If Duncan and I found the money and split it, our relationship had a better chance of surviving. He would be a 'winner' in my parents' eyes, and their objections to him would greatly diminish. We could invest some, live off of it for a while, and hope that half a million each would turn into a million each. No, money wasn't everything, but it would make our relationship a lot easier – or so I had convinced myself at the time.

When we both lost out on the money and Chris announced that Duncan would be participating in season two the following summer without me, I took it as a sign from fate that we just weren't meant to be. I hardly spoke to him or anyone for the rest of the day. They all assumed that I was just upset over losing my chances to compete next season, which was party true. The reality behind my foul mood, though, was that fate seemed so adamant that there was no future for Duncan and me.

And so, when everyone said their final goodbyes the next morning, I took a deep breath and walked over to my favorite delinquent.

"So I guess this is it-" he began.

I shook my head, a sad smile on my lips. "Don't say anything, okay?"

He grabbed my hands. "Courtney, it doesn't have to be this way."

I took them out of his grip. "No, Duncan, it really does." I stood on my tiptoes and pulled him into a hug, savoring every moment.

"I'll miss you, princess," he whispered.

I pulled away. "God, Duncan, I told you not to say anything. Don't you ever listen to me?" The words themselves were harsh, but my expression was soft.

He tried to pull off his signature smirk, but it came out as a small smile.

I punched him in the shoulder playfully. "Just . . . take care of yourself, okay? Try to stay off the streets."

"For you, anything, babe," he responded in a similar tone.

I gave him one final kiss on the lips, pulled away much too soon, and walked away, for what I thought would be the end of our whirlwind romance forever.

Of course, I was very, very wrong.

-2 ½ months later-

I tugged my blue and tan striped cardigan tighter around my shoulders. It was a sunny day, but the wind was biting, making the air feel much cooler than it should have. It was a Friday, the sixteenth of November, and three friends and I had pulled off at a car mechanic. I had a rare Saturday free, and the four of us had decided to take a day trip to Frontenac Provincial Park. It would probably come as a shock to most who know me only from my time on Total Drama, but I really didn't have too hard of a time making friends when I wasn't on television or competing against them to win $100,000. Sure, I was very driven and a little neurotic, but I was also fiercely loyal and a good conversationalist.

We had everything packed, and were on the road by noon, but we were barely thirty minutes into our two-hour drive when the engine started to splutter. We were a mile away from the nearest car shop, according to our GPS, and the old teal blue Beetle just barely made it.

It was a rusty place that looked like it belonged in an old western movie. "Don't worry, ladies," the owner of the shop said after Olivia, who owned the old car, had filled out the necessary paperwork. "We'll have one of our guys figure it out shortly."

"I knew we should have taken Courtney's car," Emma, a petite blonde who played lacrosse with me, muttered.

"I mean, seriously, Liv, what were you thinking?" seconded Charlotte, a pretty Hispanic girl whose father worked at the same law firm as my mother.

Olivia, who went to the same private school as us, but who's family was very middle class, blushed scarlet. Though she was almost seventeen, her parents had made her buy her own car, with money she had earned working at the local movie theatre for the past two years. "I just wanted to try it out, guys, it's my first car!"

I leaned up against a metal table behind me, thinking we could be there a while. "Hey, relax, everyone. Besides, it's not like you have a car right now, Charlotte."

Charlotte made a face. She had taken her first set of wheels, a brand new, shiny red Range Rover, on a late-night joyride her first week of getting her license – and totaled it. Her parents had insisted that she obviously wasn't mature enough to have a car, and were making her wait until she was seventeen before they bought her a new one.

Emma, who had been quiet during most of the conversation, was busy eyeballing the mechanic who had walked out with his tool kit to work on our transport. "Ooh, look Court, a Mohawk. Bad boys are still your type, right?" I had been teased a fair few times over the past couple months as the show aired and had been pressed for details even more, often by friends who dreamed of living vicariously through me; everyone loves a rebel, after all, but few affluent teenage girls actually live out the bad boy fantasy.

I looked over to where she had her gaze focused, but not before rolling my eyes. "Oh, ha-ha, very funny, Em-"

My voice cut out abruptly when I noticed something strange. The mechanic's Mohawk was dyed green. It was longer and floppier than Duncan's used to be, but even with his back turned toward us, I recognized him immediately. My breath caught in my throat as my mind started running a million miles an hour. What was Duncan, who lived a good two hours away from me, doing all the way out here? We had lost contact completely after the show, but it had been less than three months – less than two since he left juvie. He couldn't have moved in that time . . . could he?

I moved my hand up to my mouth, absentmindedly biting my nails, when Olivia's voice drug me away from my thoughts. "Wait a minute . . . isn't that Duncan? Courtney?"

Without bothering to answer, I stole the fedora hat that Charlotte had been wearing and the round sunglasses off of Emma's face wordlessly before walking over to him, donning the makeshift disguise. I was dressed more casually than I ever had been on the show; it was a leisurely day off, and my day-to-day life wasn't broadcast on national television. My bangs were cut more bluntly, and I had a few layers put in my hair after the show finished. I had been getting recognized at first on a near-daily basis, and a minor change in my appearance lessened the chances of that happening ever so slightly. I didn't expect him not to recognize me, but underneath the hat and glasses, I felt more concealed. More protected. It was a physical manifestation of my desire to keep my guard up.

I stopped a foot behind him and did my very best to keep my voice even. "Are you taking a while to fix up the car because you don't know what you're doing or because you're hoping I might come over and talk to you?"

He froze in front of me, then slowly stood up and turned around to face me. He was chewing a piece of gum, and something between a smirk and a smile graced his features. As if in slow motion, he took the glasses off my face and he looked me dead in the eyes. "Courtney." He said my name softly, a mixture of surprise and happiness to see me.

I ran my tongue along the bottom of my top teeth before answering. "Duncan," I responded in the same tone.

"Fancy meeting you here. Don't you usually travel by carriage?" He teased.

For once, I played into it. "The clock already stuck midnight. Had to settle for the pumpkin instead."

"That explains why it broke down. Are those your ladies in waiting?"

My head whipped around to see Olivia, Emma, and Charlotte giggling and looking over at us. I sighed and called them over with a nod of my head. Apparently, they had been awaiting my signal eagerly, as they flocked over to join us in a matter of seconds.

"Duncan – Charlotte, Emma, Olivia. Guys, this is Duncan."

"Pleasure," he said, winking in their direction, and wearing his signature smirk. They erupted in a small fit of giggles, and I sighed. He was a charmer, and I was sure teenage girls had been flocking him since the show ended. "So, who's the lucky lady who gets to drive Princess around all day?"

"That's my car," Olivia spoke up eagerly.

"How long are we looking at here, Duncan?" I didn't want to watch him flirt with my friends in front of me. Exasperation struck me, along with a hint of jealousy, and my voice was curt. "We're kind of in a hurry." We weren't really, but the less time he spent around them, the better.

He smiled knowingly, and turned back to work on the car. "The alternator's busted. You're lucky we have the part in stock. Should take another hour, max."

"An hour?" I huffed. In that amount of time he could have taken off with any one of my friends and eloped; we weren't exactly together anymore, and I wouldn't have put it above him.

"Yup – but you're in luck. Today I'm working a half-day. This should be my last car. So afterwards," he turned from the car to face me. "You and I can grab a bite to eat."

Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I realized what he was proposing. I chose to ignore it. "What are you even doing here anyways? Don't you live in Montreal?"

He stood up, wiping the grease from his hands onto the sleeveless jean jacket he was wearing. He had gotten a few tattoos on his upper shoulders since I last saw him that I hadn't noticed before that moment, and my heart started beating a little faster; put simply, he looked hotter than ever.

"I will answer that, and any other questions you have for me, if you let me take you out tonight," he grinned at me.

"I- I'm busy. We have plans." I motioned to my friends.

"No, we don't!" Emma said quickly. I made a mental note to kill her as soon as the opportunity presented itself while I glared daggers her way. "We can go hiking together another weekend, Court."

"But I-" I started.

"Great, it's set, then!" He smirked triumphantly as he walked back into the car shop, leaving me standing completely dumbfounded.

I walked some distance away, not wanting to engage in an hour-long conversation with both him and my friends together. These were two separate worlds that were not supposed to meet. Fate had told me that itself, just months prior. They followed me, whispering excitedly as they went.

I talked with my friends idly for the next hour, watching Duncan's hands work quicker than any mechanic I'd ever seen. He was far too good to have just started a month ago, and with everyone in his family being a police officer, I wondered where he had picked up the skill. _Do they put cars together in juvie?_ I wondered, just as Duncan walked over to us, keys spinning on his fingertips. He tossed them to Olivia, who caught them adeptly.

"You ladies are good to go. Everyone except for Princess, that is." He winked in my direction.

He was met with three separate utterances along the lines of "Thanks, Duncan," and "_So_ good to meet you."

I tried to follow my friends to the car, but they shook me off and kept the door to my seat locked. "Please, don't leave me," I begged quietly as they all got in, my hand resting futilely on the car door handle that wouldn't open.

All three just smiled knowingly. Olivia called out from the driver's seat, "See you in class Monday, Courtney."

Charlotte chimed in. "And we'll want to know _everything_."

I turned my gaze to Emma in the backseat, who had yet to say anything. "Emma, please, don't."

She gave me a shrug of her shoulders and wore an apologetic expression while my hand fell from the door knob and they drove off into the distance.

I watched their car fade away until I couldn't see it anymore, and quietly cursed to myself. "Shit."

"Tut, tut, tut. Not very lady-like, that kind of language."

I turned around to see Duncan who had taken the time to clean up a little. He had changed into a white t-shirt and black jacket, and the grease on his hands had gone. "What do you know about being lady-like?" I scoffed, dragging my eyes away from his physique.

"I spend enough time around women to know some things," he winked, and my cheeks flared red. I felt a twinge of jealousy for the second time. Exactly how many women had he been seeing in the past couple of months?

"Come on," he motioned with his head, and I followed him over to his car.

My jaw dropped. It was a black, convertible vintage car, and while it looked a little worse for wear, it didn't take a vehicle enthusiast to know that what you were looking at was the real deal.

Duncan noticed my expression, climbing into the driver's seat. "It's a 1968 Plymouth GTX."

I snapped my face back to the annoyed look I got so used to wearing around him. "I don't know what that is," I said matter-of-factly.

He rolled his eyes. "It's a nice car. I got the parts for a steal, the old man who had it thought it wouldn't run anymore. Took about a month to get it going."

I nodded appreciatively.

"Are you going to get in, babe, or are you just going to stare at it all afternoon?"

His question snapped me out of my gaze, and I sat in the passenger seat, taking in the black leather seats and skull hanging over the dashboard.

"It's very . . . you." I said, and I couldn't contain the smile on my face.

He smirked, but I could tell the compliment meant something to him. He started the car, and we backed off onto the highway.

"Where are we going anyway?" I asked, a little louder than usual because of the sound of the wind as we drove topless. I should have been freezing, considering the fact it was nearing December and I was wearing nothing but a cardigan, a thin white tank top, and a pair of skinny jeans, but being with him gave me a rush that made my heart race and my blood boil. It was a feeling I didn't realize I had missed so much, one synonymous with being with him.

"It's a surprise," he smirked, and I was reminded of our time on the island, the night we spent on top of the mountain, just the two of us. We were climbing a different mountain now – I could feel it in my bones. Not a tangible one, but one that was much more metaphorical. As much as I knew I should stop dead in my tracks, and climb back down, I couldn't. It had taken everything I had to convince myself that it was too impractical to see him outside of the show. And yet, here he was, sitting beside me, driving us through winding backroads where I had never been before, brought to me by nothing but pure coincidence. Alarm bells were ringing in my head telling me to cut and run while I still had the chance, but as I looked over at him, I caught his eye, and he flashed a Cheshire Cat smile. My fears were pushed to the back of my mind, and I felt my breathing hitch in my throat. He was a danger to me, and obvious threat to life as I knew it, but clearly inevitable. That thought alone would have terrified me if he hadn't looked so much like an angel in that moment, the wind blowing his overgrown Mohawk back, pure bliss on his face as we whipped around corners and blew through odd traffic lights.

"Woah, slow down!" I urged him. We were nearing 80 in a 55 zone.

He just laughed. "Hey, Princess, cars this nice were meant to be driven fast."

"I thought old cars were meant to be driven slowly," I grumbled.

"That's only because the old guys that usually drive them can't see for shit," he laughed again.

My worries were overpowered by exhilaration, and I felt a little bummed when we slowed down fifteen minutes later, pulling into the parking lot of an old dive bar.

He turned the engine off, and hopped out over his door.

I clicked off my seatbelt, but stayed put, looking warily at the shoddy building in front of me. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, neither one of us is seventeen yet, and-"

He cut me off, holding my door open for me. "Come on, babe, don't be such a stick in the mud. I know the guys in here, and they do a mean burger."

I bit my lip, but followed him inside anyway. I didn't want to stay outside by myself here, and I felt much safer with him than on my own.

The inside looked a little worse for wear, but I had to admit, it had a lot of character. There was a full bar, a few tables scattered sparsely, a jukebox in the corner, several red booths, and a few pool tables. The lighting was dim, and although it was still mid-afternoon, blackout curtains were drawn so that no sunlight was let in from the outside. Duncan absent-mindedly grabbed my hand and led me to a booth, and we sat down on opposite sides as I surveyed our surroundings. It was mostly empty, a few couples and groups here and there, all ranging from their early twenties to their mid-thirties. We were easily the youngest people in the place, but Duncan looked completely at ease, watching me take it all in with amusement until our waitress arrived. She was pretty, with pale skin and short black hair, wearing a grey Metallica t-shirt and black ripped skinny jeans. I was oddly reminded of Gwen.

"Something to drink?" she asked curtly.

Duncan motioned to me. "Ladies first."

"Just a Diet Coke, thanks." I responded.

She turned to Duncan. "And you?"

"I'll take a Budweiser," he said coolly.

She didn't blink an eye before returning to the bar.

I gave Duncan an incredulous look. "What are you doing?" I hissed. "You're sixteen!"

He rolled his eyes at me. "Relax, chicken wing, I told you they know me in here."

I huffed, and looked away, not saying a word until our waitress returned with our drinks.

"Thanks, Sophia," Duncan said, as she put his drink down, and shot a wink towards me as if to prove his point.

I scoffed. Sophia smiled. "Anything to eat?"

"I'll do a cheeseburger and fries," Duncan ordered.

"And you?" Sophia asked again, this time directed at me, a little coldly. She looked pretty young, no older than nineteen or twenty. Maybe she was jealous that Duncan had brought a girl in, I mused.

"Just . . . a basket of fries," I decided on, eyes scanning the menu in front of me quickly. I had been too preoccupied with everything that had occurred in the last few minutes to think about what I wanted to eat, and I wasn't too hungry.

She took away the menus wordlessly, and retreated to the kitchen.

I sat leaning over the table with my arms crossed, sipping my drink idly.

"So," Duncan smirked after taking a swig of beer. "You had some questions for me."

My eyes snapped to his, narrowing as I remembered all at once how strange of a circumstance this was. "What are you _doing _here?"

"Sipping a beer, talking to a pretty girl," he grinned.

I huffed and rolled my eyes, but my stomach did a little backflip at the complement. "No, I mean what are you doing here? As in not in Montreal?"

"Parents got transferred to a different province. We moved to Carleton Place as soon as I got out of juvie," he answered swiftly.

"Oh," I said, lost in thought for a moment. Carleton Place was a little town less than forty minutes away from my home in Manotick. "And since when are you a car mechanic?"

"Since forever," he responded.

I rolled my eyes again. "You really are bad at answering questions, you know?"

"Fine, fine," he huffed. "If I knew you wanted my full life story, Princess, I would've thought twice about coming here with you."

I knew he was saying things just to rile me up at this point, but I couldn't help it. "Um, _what_? One: I have asked you _two_ questions. Two: You told me you would answer whatever I asked if I came here with you. And three: _You_ dragged _me_ here in the first place, _remember_?"

He was fighting a smirk. "Really? Are you sure?"

I threw up my hands. "Ugh! You are impossible!"

He broke into a fit of laughter. "Okay, okay, just making sure you were still as fun to mess with as when I first met you!"

I threw him an icy glare. "And the verdict?"

"You never disappoint, babe," he winked at me.

"I hate you," I huffed, venom clouding my tone.

He just smiled. "Sure, sure, Princess. Okay, I started working at the shop as soon as we moved here. My parole officer thought it would give me something to do. Keep me off the streets," he said pointedly, clearly reminding me of the promise he made me the last time I saw him a few months ago. I made a face, but was secretly glad he remembered it; it made me feel special. Like he was trying for me.

"And does it?" I asked, taking another sip of Coke. "Keep you off the streets?"

He shrugged, then grinned. "It's just like stripping a car. Except in reverse."

I scoffed. "So your inner convict is satisfied then?"

"For the most part," he teased, sipping his beer.

"You know, you really shouldn't drink," I said, changing the topic. "It kills brain cells."

He just rolled his eyes. "You know, you really shouldn't be so uptight all the time. It kills the mood."

"And if you keep rolling your eyes like that, they're gonna get stuck that way," I chastised him again, ignoring the insult.

"You're one to talk!" he laughed.

"I only do it when I'm with you," I countered.

"Well, well, well, we can add that to the list of _several_ things you only do when you're with me," he wiggled his brow suggestively.

"Hence another reason why you're no good for me," I muttered, mostly to myself.

I watched the look on his face quickly fade to one of disappointment. It was there for a fraction of a second; he recomposed his features into one of disinterest quickly, but not before I caught the sadness in his eyes. I was good at picking out his expressions, but not half as good as uncovering the meaning behind them. We fell into silence then, and while I was pondering what exactly it meant – he couldn't still think he was falling in love with me could he? I had put a stop to that as quickly as it had come, plus he made some comment earlier in the day about other women – our waitress returned with our food.

"Cheeseburger and fries," she announced, as she placed a basket in front of Duncan with great care. "Here," she said to me, as she practically shoved my fries in front of my face, leaving swiftly.

Duncan dug into his burger, while I twirled a fry in my hand before popping it into my mouth. "I don't think your friend likes me."

He looked puzzled for a second, then his face switched to one of amusement. "Oh, Sophia? Well, she knows you, too."

"Wait, what?" I asked confusedly. I searched through my memory, trying to remember if I had seen her before. She certainly didn't look familiar. Maybe she knew my father and didn't happen to agree with his political platform?

Duncan watched me for a while before clarifying. "She watched the show. Apparently she's not a Duncney fan."

"A _what_?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

"Jesus, woman, do you live under a rock?" He scoffed, mouth full of burger. He swallowed, then asked another question. "Haven't you seen the stuff that Chris and the producers are putting out? All the fan merchandise?"

I thought about it. I had seen a couple of Owen toys and t-shirts here and there, but I thought that was just part of the winner's package. And whenever I saw anything Total Drama, I tended to turn away – saying goodbye to Duncan still felt a little too raw at the time. I mentally slapped myself for being so weak.

"What is a _Duncney_?" I asked skeptically.

He proceeded to wear biggest smirk I have ever seen, and his brow skyrocketed. "That's us, babe. We're Duncney."

A look of horror etched itself upon my face. "_What?_ But there isn't even – we're not even – _ugh_, Chris is so gonna get it!" I seethed.

"Come on, sweetheart, it isn't that bad-"

"Don't you sweetheart me," I warned, pointing a finger at him.

"It's rude to point," he chided.

I shot him the finger instead. "We shouldn't even be out here together. People are gonna think we're still a thing, and I _really_ don't want my first cover story on the _Toronto Star _to be with you."

He made a face. "Why do you think we're here, babe?"

I quieted down and looked around. He had a point. While the bar was pretty skeezy, it was fairly empty, and there wasn't a camera in sight. No one sans Sophia the bitchy waitress had really taken any notice to the pair of us at all. "Oh. That was a good idea."

"I do occasionally have those," he remarked.

I looked back at him and laughed. I felt a lot more relaxed, and we spent the next few hours talking, laughing, and catching up on the last few months. He told me about his family, his job, and the last of his sixteen-month stint in juvie. I told him about my classes, my friends, and my extracurriculars. He teased me for being a try-hard and I teased him for being an ex-con. I felt happier and more at ease than I had in months.

"Wait, wait, here it is!" He exclaimed, breaking off mid-story, and pointing up to the speakers. "Don't want to close my eyes!" He jumped up on the booth seat, and began to sing over-the-top dramatically the lyrics to the Aerosmith song he had picked on the jukebox a half hour earlier. I laughed, eyes wide with shock, watching him make an utter fool of himself. "I don't want to fall asleep, 'cause I'd miss you, babe, and I don't want to miss a thing!"

"Get down from there!" I laughed.

"No can do, honey!" He yelled between verses.

"Seriously, what do I have to do to get you to sit back down?"

"You could always give me a kiss," he winked at me.

"Fine!" I laughed, motioning for him to come down.

"No way, Princess. You've gotta get up here!"

I shook my head slowly. "Not gonna happen, Duncan."

"Fine," he shrugged. "EVEN WHEN I DREAM OF YOU, THE SWEETEST DREAM WILL NEVER DO," he continued singing, eyes shut tight, even louder than before.

I jumped up on my booth, cursed him in my head for being such an idiot, and crossed over the table to his side, pulling his lips down and pressing them firmly against my own. We were both smiling into the kiss until he pulled away a minute later, a serious and seductive look in his eyes. My own grin faded, and I felt my stomach drop with excitement. When he pulled me in again, he kissed me with more urgency. We made-out on top of the booth for a little while, my head spinning wildly, before he broke away, throwing a $20 on the table. He grabbed my hand, and said to me in a rough voice, "Come on."

And then we were flying in his car, and I was far too consumed with the anticipation of our destination to worry about the speed we were going.

It had grown dark when we were in the bar, but no stars were out that night. We arrived at what I assumed was his house, a decently-sized bungalow that looked far nicer than I expected. He pulled a key out of his pocket, fumbled with the lock, then stepped over the threshold and pulled me in behind him. It was completely dark in the house except for one hallway light on, and I assumed no one was home. Still hanging onto my hand, he hurried me into his room and closed the door, not bothering to turn the lights on, and pulled me in for an even more urgent kiss.

I tugged away breathlessly. "Parents?"

"Night shift," he responded, kissing my neck hungrily.

I pulled him back to my face, and lay down backwards on the full-size bed in the middle of the room, dragging him along with me. With one hand snaked around my waist, he shifted me higher on the bed, and fell of top of me. I tugged his shirt over his head, and he did the same to mine. We continued in that fashion, undressing each other in between breathless kisses, and my skin was on fire with every touch.

"Condom?" I asked after it all became too much, panting for air. I needed him in that moment like I needed water to drink, food to eat, air to breathe.

He froze for a second, then moved to look me in the eyes. "Are you sure?"

His blue eyes gleamed in the darkness. I nodded. I was sure.

"Courtney, I-" he began, starting to protest.

"Please?" I asked in a small voice, my own eyes wide and expression beseeching.

And that was all he needed. He let out a small groan, and did as I asked.

-/-/-

I squinted when I woke, sunlight beaming through the unclosed blinds in the room. I was disoriented and groggy at first until the sound of a light snore made me jump. I looked to my left and saw Duncan sprawled out next to me, fast asleep on his stomach, one arm flung over the side of the bed. As the events of the day before played through my head, I could hardly believe what had happened. It felt like a dream. Yet here I was, in Duncan's room, preparing to leave the morning after. I laughed inwardly as I saw the irony behind Chris McLean's dumb reality T.V. show; I walked down the Dock of Shame oh so many months ago, screaming my dramatic goodbyes to Duncan, out of who's room I would do my first real walk of shame later that very same year.

The alarm clock on the bedside table beeped 7 A.M. I huffed out a sigh and slowly got up, grateful that this particular morning he didn't have an arm around me. I gathered my clothes from the night before and got dressed quickly. I figured it would be better to be gone by the time his parents got home from work to avoid that awkward situation altogether.

I grabbed my purse, ready to head out the door and call a cab, but paused before touching the doorknob. What would he think if he woke up and I was gone? I scanned the room quickly, eyes falling on an old wooden desk in the corner with a few pens and some neon green Post-its on it. I quickly tore off the top one, and left a message for him, smirking as I wrote it out.

_Don't want to miss a thing. – Courtney_

I stuck the note on the back of his door, and quietly left. I walked a few blocks before calling a cab, in case his parents arrived home earlier than expected.

I would be home in time for breakfast. It was a Sunday, and while we were technically Catholic, we weren't weekly churchgoers, so my parents would sleep in until nine – their weekly lie-in, they called it. I grinned as I realized they wouldn't even know I was gone.

I spent the entirety of the taxi ride thinking about the night before, my cheeks glowing pink remembering certain details. If fate had decided a few months ago that we weren't destined to be together, it had obviously changed its mind. _Screw it_, I thought, pushing away my inhibitions. I felt like I was flying, and in that moment, I refused to look down.


	14. Chapter 13: Call It What You Want

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: I know it's been a week since I updated, but I've had **_**a lot**_**of unforeseen occurrences take place in my personal life recently, and for that I apologize. I should be updating frequently again, and I LOVE this chapter, so if you're still here, you're in for a real treat. I also wanted to take this moment to clarify two things about the last chapter - 1) I messed up the timeline accidentally! Courtney meets Duncan on SATURDAY, the 17TH of November, NOT Friday the 16th (this is 2007 people, in case you're a super nerd like me and want to know). She spends the night at his place, and returns home on the Sunday morning. Sorry if that confused y'all! and 2) I'm assuming that Duncan gets tattoos between Island and Action and that the Fresh TV artists just didn't want to have to keep drawing them on him for two separate reasons - Courtney refers to Duncan as a "tattooed bad boy" in TDA, and they both get heart tats on their arms together before All Stars that mysteriously disappear, and I really doubt they would have had them removed so quickly. Plus, I like the whole tat thing - it's so Duncan! Alright, done blabbing, please read and review! Love, Callie, mwah!**

Chapter 13 – Call It What You Want

I sat on my bed Monday evening staring at my cell phone. The ball was in my court, I knew it. I internally chastised myself for not giving Duncan my number at some point on the island or leaving it on the Post-It note I left for him the day before. My fingers twisted around the small scrap of paper in my hand with ten numbers scrawled out on it. I found it in one of the outer pockets of my suitcase the day I got home from camp, when I was checking every inch of it to make sure I hadn't brought any roaches home. I figured he must've slipped it in there the night he stayed with me in the cabin, and I had kept it tucked away in a box deep under my bed, along with the skull he had carved for me and my boxed set of Total Drama DVDs that had been sent to me when the show finished airing, complements of the producers. I had fished the paper out with the intention of calling him over half an hour ago, and I had yet to pluck up the courage to do so.

I spent most of Sunday, the day before, getting a head start on the week's homework and practicing violin – there was a brand new one, the same make and model as my old Strad, sitting on my bed waiting for me when I had returned home. That was the only acknowledgment my parents had given me that they watched the show. Each time I worked Bridgette into a conversation or mentioned any slight detail about my time on the show, my father would grind his teeth and my mother would cluck disapprovingly. It was clear that in their eyes, I had wasted a summer pivotal to my college applications and brought the wrong kind of attention to our already well-known family. So I gave up trying to talk to them about it, and resigned to speaking only when spoken to about grades, extracurriculars, and country club gossip.

Maria, our housemaid, was a different story. She was around the house every week day from nine in the morning until seven at night, typically when my parents arrived home from work. When I returned home from the show, she was quick to tell me that she'd watched every episode, and proceeded to describe them in detail, despite the fact that I had actually been there witnessing the events as they happened. She had also pressed me in detail to talk about Duncan, asking if we were still together and how I felt about it all. When I told her it was a summer fling and asked her not to push, she eased off, but it did take a few weeks.

I came home from school early on Monday – lacrosse practiced had been cancelled due to half the team and both coaches out sick – and Maria was there to greet me per usual, wiping down the stovetop.

"Hola, chica. I made chocolate chip cookies, on the counter if you want some."

"No, thanks," I replied casually. My stomach was still in knots thinking about two nights before.

At this response, she perked up and sauntered over to me, placing one hand on her hip and grabbing my jaw with the other lightly, analyzing my face with scrutiny. "No galletas? But you love chocolate chip!"

"I'm just not hungry," I said hurriedly, moving my face out of her hand with a slight turn of my chin.

She dropped her hand, but pursed her lips. I refused to meet her gaze.

"Okay, mija. Sit." She pointed to the couch, and I sighed, doing as I was told. She took a seat beside me. I could have walked straight into my room, but Maria was stubborn; she would pester me about it for weeks if I didn't tell her what was going on. And we were close, too. She had partially raised me, and had been a motherly figure to me in ways that my own biological mother was not. I trusted her. "Que paso?"

I looked at her for a few moments before answering, trying to figure out if I wanted to tell her a complete lie, a half-truth, or everything. I settled for the second. "Duncan's here."

Her head whipped up as she looked around quickly. "Here? Now? Ay, dios mios, I should have made more galletas . . ."

I contained my urge to laugh, as my hands moved to her wrist, bringing her attention back to me. "No, no, not _here _here, God. He moved here. He lives in Carleton Place now."

"_Oh_, I see. So you know this how, mija?"

I hesitated before answering. "I saw him Saturday."

"_Oh_, mija!" She smirked and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Stop that!" I smacked her arm lightly.

"Si, si, okay, okay!" She smiled. "You know what this means, si?"

"What does it mean, _Maria_?" I asked, fighting an eye-roll.

"Fate is pushing you two back together!" She exclaimed excitedly.

This time I did roll my eyes. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is, mija. You wait and see."

"Fine, whatever," I responded, getting up and preparing to head to my room.

"Ay, don't you 'whatever,' me!" she said sternly, standing up as well.

"Lo siento, Maria," I apologized sincerely. She always appreciated when I spoke Spanish back to her. I wasn't totally fluent, but between growing up with Maria as a nannie and getting a 5 on the AP Spanish exam the previous Spring, I was very comfortable with the language.

She grabbed my face in her hands and kissed my forehead sweetly. She pulled back and fixed my bangs a bit before letting me go.

"So when will I get to meet him?" she asked, just as I was turning the corner of the hallway that lead to my room.

I scoffed, and turned back around to face her, an incredulous look on my face. "If you think I'm ever bringing him back here, you really are loca."

She let out a little '_Tut'_ accompanied by a smile, and returned to her housework.

-/-/-

"Come on, Courtney, just do it." I picked up the phone, but paused my attempts to call him again. Was it completely foolish to put out so quickly? What if that was all he wanted, to get into my pants, and now he was onto the next conquest? Though my heart told me it wasn't true, the paranoid voice in my head was much louder.

I took a deep breath, then tried again. _What's the worst that could happen?_ I thought. _He blows me off, and I never see him again. Isn't that what I wanted at one point? _After a few more minutes of running over my thoughts again and again, I thought, _Fuck it. _And with that sentiment, I dialed and hit the call button.

It rang three times, and just when I was beginning to freak out about whether or not to leave a message, he answered. "Hello?"

He sounded aggravated, and I reminded myself that he would have picked up to an unknown caller, and that his annoyance had nothing to do with me, before I could chicken out and hang up.

"Hey, it's me." I was surprised at how casually the words fell out of my mouth, considering my heart was racing a mile a minute.

"Princess!" His tone of voice changed entirely, and I beamed. Memories of meeting him in the fish cabin on Wawanakwa sprang to mind, and I closed my eyes to momentarily relive them.

"You're lucky I cleaned my suitcase out so thoroughly, you know? Otherwise I'd never have found your number."

He scoffed. "You're lucky it was my number. What if Harold or Tyler had slipped theirs in there? Then you'd be in real trouble."

I laughed, and he spoke again. "What took you so long? Another day and I would've looked you up in the yellow pages – and I don't think 'Ottawa's most esteemed city councilor' would have exactly appreciated a call from me."

"Wow, somebody knows how to use Google," I joked, but my heart swelled in my chest. His voice was still teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity to it. The black hole comprised of nothing but fear and doubt in the pit of my stomach exploded into a garden of butterflies. I pushed past it. "And I'm shocked that you even know what a phone book is."

"What can I say, Dad's a dinosaur," he said. I was about to respond, but he cut me off. "Hey – what are you doing right now?"

"Right now?" I bit my lip and looked over to my alarm clock. It was nearing six. "I don't know, I'm supposed to practice my violin, and I have this AP Macro project I should work on, not to mention – "

He cut me off again. "Come hang out with me."

I scoffed. "It's official. You never listen to me."

He sighed. "You're a great violin player, you don't need to practice, and I bet your school project isn't due for another week. So come hang out with me."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, you know."

"But I'm right aren't I?"

I bit my cheek and stayed silent.

He took this as a yes. "Okay, so, come hang out with me."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Okay, want me to meet you at your place?"

"You know, I can practically hear you rolling your eyes through the phone," he laughed.

"Well, you're wrong because I didn't –"

"And now you're pretending you didn't because you don't want to admit I'm right for a second time tonight." I could picture the grin he was wearing as I fumed, wondering why I had fallen for the most annoying person on the planet. "You're way too easy to read, Court."

"Do you want me to meet you at your place or not?" I asked aggressively, ready to take my bat home.

"Definitely not," he responded, but before the shock set in, he added, "It's not a real date unless I pick you up."

I glanced at the clock again. 5:55. "Okay, but you better book it. If my dad catches a whiff of you even a mile from here, you're a goner."

"On it, babe. See you in thirty." And then he hung up.

After twenty-five minutes of trying on my entire wardrobe, I settled with part of what I was originally wearing: a grey tank top and skinny jeans. I swapped out my flats out for a pair of combat boots I found in the back of my closet and threw on an old blue and grey flannel I had dug up rather than the blush sweater I was wearing over the top beforehand. I left the flannel undone and surveyed my reflection.

I looked much grungier than I was used to and smiled a little as I teased my hair a bit. I looked . . . cool. There was no other word to describe it. It was unsettling in one sense; I didn't really feel like me. But in another, I would _fit_ with Duncan. We would still look a little odd, no doubt, but the space between the two of us would feel smaller. And if we went to another dive bar, I wouldn't stick out half as much.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped and ran to it before Maria could answer in my place. She raised her eyebrows at me, and before I opened it, I turned to her. "Don't tell."

"Ay, mija, it's not _my_ place to know." She winked at me, and disappeared into another room.

I opened the door and there was Duncan, smirking as he looked me up and down. He opened his mouth to say something, but I grabbed his arm and dragged him to his car. "No time, but I'll assume whatever you were about to say was especially witty."

We were out of the neighborhood and flying down the highway in minutes.

"Dressed more like the pauper today, princess. What gives?" he said smugly, his eyes drifting from the road to look over at me.

I huffed as my cheeks turned red. "Using a literary reference, ogre? What gives?"

He grinned. "Seventh grade English, babe."

"And you actually read it? I'm impressed."

"Well, if reading the Spark Notes counts . . ."

"And . . . impression revoked."

We continued driving, him going much too fast, me nagging him to slow down, for a good twenty minutes before he pulled off on the side of a back road. He got out of the car, and I followed suit, crossing my arms as I approached him. It was dark out, but he left the headlights on.

"Where are we?" I asked, a little irritated that I was once again completely at his own disposal.

He ignored my question and walked a good twenty meters ahead, me tailing him the whole time – until he sat down on a set of train tracks.

"What are you _doing_?" I half-yelled. This was certainly no place to stop for a breather.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Sitting."

"You can't just . . . just _sit_ on a train track! That's so dangerous!" Here I was on a so-called 'date' with the most idiotic person on the planet.

He rolled his eyes. "No, it isn't, princess." And then he proceeded to kick back, throwing his hands behind his head.

I unconsciously moved closer. "Oh yeah? What if a train comes?"

"Then, I move."

"What if it comes fast?"

"Then, I move _fast_."

"What if you can't hear it?"

"You know, I'd have a much higher chance of hearing it if you would stop your yacking for two seconds."

I gasped. "Really? I'm _trying_ to save your godforsaken life, and there you go, once again, and – ahh!" He leaned up, grabbed my arm, and pulled me down on top of him, trapping me in his embrace. "What the _hell_, Duncan?"

"What?" he asked, batting his eyes and attempting to feign innocence, all the while keeping his grip ever tight around me.

"Are you _trying _to kill me?" I squirmed in his grip looking for a way to break loose.

"Relax for two seconds, princess, and just go with the flow for once. It's exciting. Like a mini rush." I could feel his warm breath on my face. It smelled of Listerine with a hint of metal. It was so _him_.

"I'll go with the flow the minute you stop acting like a crazy person." I didn't give up my efforts to get him to release me, however futile they then seemed.

"One minute of relaxing, and I'll put you down. Promise."

I stopped squirming. "Fine." I said curtly, and began counting in my head. If a train came in the next sixty seconds, I made my peace with the fact that it probably meant this was my time to go. It was what I deserved for being so completely stupid as to trust a convict.

Over the next minute, however, I found myself really and truly de-stressing. It was quiet enough that I could hear crickets chirp, so the possibility of not hearing a train coming was slim to none. And it _was _kind of a rush. Adrenaline shot through my veins both as I took in my surroundings and my compromising position with Duncan. He noticed my attention lock in on him, and he moved to close the gap in between our lips, his arms falling slack around me.

"_And_ sixty." I finished the count I had long forgotten and rolled off of him before he could make contact. I turned to sit cross-legged in front of him, moving off the train tracks, but choosing to sit in the middle of them rather than on the outside.

He groaned, but sat up and mimicked my position, his whole body mirroring mine, with the sole difference being that he was on top of the tracks. "You're missing out on the _experience_, Court."

"I'm fine right where I am, thank-you," I replied curtly, but I couldn't help but smile.

"Do you _ever_ get tired of running away?" He asked the question quickly, teasingly, but even I could hear the exasperated truth behind the words. The accusation. My face dropped, and he blanched, realizing what he had just said. "Courtney, I didn't mean – I don't –"

"I'm not." I whispered, voice barely audible over the sounds of the nature surrounding us. "I'm not running away."

We looked at each other intently for a few moments, until I pressed my mouth against his. We stayed like that for a while, him letting me lead for once. My lips kissed his lightly, delicately, softly. The kiss wasn't hungry or passion-driven, like most others we had shared, nor short and sweet, like our first. It was a dance of trust and uncertainty, assuredness and vulnerability. His lips followed mine in a subdued veneration. A stark contrast in our dynamic from my usual role of response, I was taking the lead, letting him know that this was okay, that I was okay, that I wanted to move forward, despite my reservations. I was treading shark-infested waters, but it was my own choice. And his compliance in that moment was his unspoken promise not to attack or take advantage of my vulnerability. He understood my fears, my doubts, the position he was putting me in, the choices I would have to make, even in the smallest degree. And all at once I was taken aback by how wonderfully and perfectly we were suited to each other at our cores, far underneath the superficial layers that surrounded us that could not have been more different.

When I pulled away, my head was spinning, and he had a dazed look in his eyes.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes to his pocket, but the smile on his lips didn't fade. "I, um, I got you something."

I tilted my head curiously, and he snuck a glance at me before looking back down and speaking more quickly. "It's not much, I know you're probably used to diamonds and pearls, but the skull was kind of a placeholder until I could get back home to give you this."

His palm returned from his pocket, and he opened it to reveal a silver heart shaped locket. I gingerly lifted it, and brought it up to my face for closer inspection. In the top left corner, it was engraved with a tiny letter D, so small it was barely visible. "It was my grandma's. My grandad gave it to her when they first came over from Italy. Her name is Donnie, hence the 'D,' but when I turned fifteen, she gave it to me." He ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, as I twirled it, watching the heart catch different beams of light. "She said something about wanting me to give it to the right girl . . . I don't know. I didn't really think about it for a while. Until I . . . met . . . you." His voice trailed off at the end; he was not used to being so sappy.

When I flipped the locket open, I gasped softly. It was a tiny photo of the two of us, our backs pressed up against each other, the night we stood on the deck of the Bass cabin, right before I turned him around and pulled him into our first kiss. The intimacy of the moment was striking, and for the first time, I was glad that we had it caught on camera, even if we had to share it with the entire viewing nation.

"You don't have to keep it if you don't want it, I mean, you don't really wear a lot of jewelry, and –" He was stumbling over words now, but I cut him off.

"Put it on me," I instructed, as I undid the catch and leaned in close.

He did as I asked, reaching both hands around my neck and closing the clasp. It fell in the middle of my cleavage, just long enough to be tucked away, but keeping it hidden was the last thing on my mind at the time. He dropped his hands to his lap, and I moved mine to touch the heart delicately. I looked up to see him watching me intently, and smiled.

"We match," I said quietly, running a finger over his eyebrow ring. "It's your favorite color, right? Piercing silver."

His smile that followed was the most starry-eyed I had ever seen.


	15. Chapter 14: Symphony

Treacherous

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Total Drama series or anything else copyrighted._

**A/N: Hello again, just me! Chapter 14 is up, and I'm trying to update as often as I can, every week at the very least. Enjoy, mwah!**

Chapter 14 – Symphony

Much of the next day passed in a haze. I was finally shaken from my Duncan-centric thoughts when the doorbell rang around six o'clock on Tuesday evening. I had just arrived home from lacrosse practice and was halfway through showering when I heard it.

"Maria!" I yelled, rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. "Shower!" I hoped she would understand and get the door herself.

Fifteen minutes later, I had dried off and changed into a plain black t-shirt and skinny jeans. The night before I had reorganized my closet, pulling all of the more casual articles of clothing to the forefront; I did it without thinking too much – I simply decided it was time for a slight stylistic change. My parents usually left for work before I did for school, and they had yet to witness the differences in my clothing choices. If Maria had, she didn't mention it. I refastened the heart-shaped locket around my neck and continued to towel-dry my hair over my shoulder as I headed to the living room to ask who was visiting past business hours. Occasionally a citizen would find my father's address, by one means or another, and Maria would tell them they were in the wrong place. I'd had one or two crazy fans of the show find me, too, but Maria had diverted them, as well. I was fully expecting her to have sent whoever it was on their way by the time I arrived.

What I was not expecting, however, was to see a green-haired punk comfortably slouched back on the loveseat, conversing with my housemaid, a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in one hand.

". . . pushed her out of our canoe one time and she flipped! I always told her she needed to take a chill pill – Princess!" He stood up and smirked when he noticed me standing at the edge of the hallway.

I snapped my dropped jaw back into place and stomped over to him. "_What,_" I hissed, "_are you doing here?"_

"Ay, mija!" Maria snapped disapprovingly. "That is no way to treat a guest!"

I pursed my lips and closed my eyes for a moment before trying again, gritting my teeth as I spoke. "You couldn't have called first?" My tone was more level, but the flash of warning behind it was clear.

"And miss out on meeting Maria? Are you nuts?" He was grinning, and I watched Maria blush scarlet.

"Tu novio es un encantador verdadero, mija," Maria told me, as she moved to continue making dinner in the kitchen. _Your boyfriend is a real charmer_.

I scoffed and spoke back to her quickly. "Algunas veces, pero mas a menudo que no, es un cerdo." _Sometimes, but more often than not, he's a pig._

Duncan looked dumbstruck in front of me, and I couldn't help but contain my own smirk.

Maria narrowed her eyes, "Juega bien, chica." _Play nice_.

I grinned. "Don't I always?"

Duncan chose this point to interject. "You know, it's unladylike to talk behind a man's back."

"And it's rude to talk with your mouth full," I retorted playfully. "My parents could have been home – what were you _thinking_?"

"I was _thinking_ that I'd like to take you out again."

"And you couldn't have called again because?"

He shrugged.

I huffed audibly. "Will you ever stop being so reckless?"

"Aw, you know you love it, babe," he smiled smugly, and my cheeks turned pink. "Now grab your violin, so we can get going."

"My . . . violin?" I questioned confusedly.

"That's what I said, wasn't it? You said yesterday you needed to practice. Now – chop, chop, woman!"

I glared at him, let out a frustrated "Ugh!", and stropped back to my room to grab my violin, slipping on a creamy jacket with fringed sleeves after I did so. I was sure that I didn't purchase it – it more than likely belonged to Charlotte, with her expensive indie taste, and she had probably left it at my place a while back – but I hadn't been feeling my usual sweaters as of late. I ran a brush through my damp hair and ruffled my bangs a bit, before I grabbed Duncan's hand and pulled him out the door. "Be back later, Maria!" I called. I didn't wait to hear her response before I slammed the front door shut behind me.

-/-/-

"Come on, faster!" It was Duncan's turn to pull me along. We were running up a fire escape of some building in Downtown Ottawa, and Duncan was holding my hand, urging me to speed up. His free right hand was grasping the neck of his guitar tightly, while my left free one clung onto my violin case.

"I'm trying!" I hissed, a little out of breath. "Did you run around a lax field for two hours today?"

"Don't be such a wimp, I know you can run forever if you feel like it. Besides, you'll like this." We were nearing the top now.

I grumbled. "What is so difficult about dinner and a movie?" Duncan's '_dates_' were so incredibly bizarre, but I couldn't pretend not to be curious about where we were off to this time.

He just chuckled. After two more flights, Duncan let go of my hand, hopping over the ledge in front of me. He held out his free hand again and helped me over once he was one level ground. I walked around on the vast expanse of empty space, finding my way over to the ledge and setting my violin case on the ground. The view was breathtaking. Despite it being a Tuesday night, the city was alive with bright lights glistening and cars moving swiftly. We were only five or so stories high, but I felt like I was on top of the world. A gust of wind came, and I pulled my jacket closer around me, shivering slightly.

Still looking out over the city, I saw Duncan come stand beside me out of the corner of my eye. "It's beautiful," I cleared my throat, trying to bring my attention back to the cityscape in front of me.

"Yeah," he agreed, quietly.

I looked over at him and saw that his full body was shifted towards me, guitar resting up on the ledge behind him. He was looking at me intently, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious. "You're not even looking," I chastised him playfully.

"Oh, right." He responded, still watching me attentively.

"What?" I laughed, trying to feign annoyance, but unable to keep a straight face.

"Nothin'," he smiled. "Just enjoying the view."

My cheeks flamed red, and I rolled my eyes. "You are so irritating, you know."

He just shrugged, continuing to smirk at me.

I sighed, before looking back out over the ledge. "What building is this anyway?" As pretty as the view was, I didn't really feel like getting arrested for trespassing that night.

"It's abandoned," Duncan answered, finally shifting his body to look out over the city, as well. His arm pressed up against mine, and my heart picked up its pace. "So you can calm down, cause we're not breaking any laws."

I scoffed. "Ever heard of loitering?"

"Ever heard of living a little?" He shot back.

"Oh, ha-ha-ha," I spit back unamused, turning towards the fire escape to leave. I really didn't want to go, nor did I have another ride, but before I had to commit to my actions, Duncan grabbed my wrist and spun me around.

"No, Courtney, wait up. No one ever comes up here, I swear. And you can't leave now, we haven't even gotten to the good part," he grinned, hand still clutching my arm.

"The good part?" I questioned, wondering what else he had in store.

"Making music." He let go of my hand and jogged back over to his guitar. Sitting on the edge of the ledge, he began to play, picking the strings quickly and adeptly, switching between chords every second or so. The way he played guitar was much different than Trent; he was good – better in my opinion – and I stood mesmerized as I watched the indie sounding song play out loudly and get lost in the wind. Though we were outdoors, the music was just for us. It was there, on the rooftop, and then faded away into nothingness before it could reach the ears of anyone else.

I moved to sit next to him on the ledge, watching him intently. He stopped a few minutes later, looking at me slightly abashed.

"What was that?" I breathed, a ghost of a smile etched on my face.

He ran a hand through his green Mohawk. "Just a Metallica cover. Nothing too special. Let's see . . . something you might know . . ." He began to play a few jagged chords, which wove themselves into a familiar melody.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, recognizing the song as _I Write Sins Not Tragedies_ by Panic! At the Disco. It was one of the more alternative bands I actually enjoyed listening to, and I had a copy of their debut album CD they released two years prior. He grinned when he realized I got it, but didn't stop playing. When Duncan got to the chorus, I ran to grab my violin, and jumped in, both of us playing loudly enough to try and drown the other out, laughing as we kept picking up the pace, each of us attempting to outplay the other.

A while passed of the two of us playing together, figuring out which obscure songs overlapped in our vastly differing musical tastes. We were halfway through a rendition of _Your Song_ by Elton John, when I put down my violin to listen to him play. I began to sing along softly. _"So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do."_ He looked up at me, and we smiled at each other as I continued singing. _"You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue. Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen." _

And to my greatest astonishment, the last thing I ever expected to happen, did – he began to sing along with me. _"And you can tell everybody this is your song. It might be quite simple, but now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is when you're in the world." _His voice sounded like smooth velvet, and I stopped singing to hear him better, mesmerized as I gazed into his icy blue orbs. _"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words . . . How wonderful life is when you're in the world."_

He stopped playing and looked at me intently for a few seconds. I felt the urge to press my lips against his, but before I got the chance, he cleared his throat and said, "If you tell anyone about that, I will run over your violin, got it?"

"Ugh!" I groaned as I leaned back, widening the space between the two of us. "Leave it to you to ruin the moment!"

"I'm serious, Courtney," he pressed. "I know you told LeShawna about the bunny thing."

"_Fine_," I huffed, trying to keep a straight face. "I swear will never tell a soul that you sound like one of the Backstreet Boys." I giggled and hopped up, knowing I wouldn't get away with that comment without a scratch.

"Oh, that's it, come here," he grumbled, setting his guitar down and playfully coming after me.

"No, no!" I screamed between fits of laughter as he caught me around my waist.

He tackled me to the ground, his body pressed up against mine, centimeters between us.

I calmed down, and he pressed hips lips against mine softly. When we eventually broke apart, I scooched up to lean against the side of the ledge, and he did the same.

"How do you know it? The song?" I broke the comfortable silence we were sitting in.

"My ma used to sing it to me," he responded, moving one hand to rub the back of his neck. "When I was a kid."

I nodded and smiled softly to myself. His mother sounded like she loved him immensely. I was lost in thought wondering what that kind of unconditional love must feel like, when Duncan brought me back to reality. "You go to a private school, right?"

"Um, yes?" I questioned, wondering why he had asked something so out of the blue.

"Then you have your fall break this week, right? Wednesday through Friday off?"

It was true. Since my high school was private, meaning it could organize its own days off each semester, and we lived so close to the States, we had our fall break organized around the same time as America's Thanksgiving break. This way, students with family in the northeast U.S. could spend the American holiday with them. I hadn't told Duncan simply because it hadn't come up, but I would have been lying if I didn't say I was looking forward to the possibility of spending more time with him.

"Right . . ." I continued slowly.

"What are you doing?" he pressed, turning his body to face me. "Do you have any plans."

"Well . . ." I started, thinking. I had been so behind (for me, that is) in my usual schoolwork. I had originally planned to get all of December's homework out of the way in this week, and I hadn't been practicing my violin as often as I should have been, nor working on my debate for spring semester or prepping for the class presidency campaign that coming May. Duncan being back had really thrown me off my A-game. "I have homework that I need to get done and violin and debate practice, and I should really –"

He cut me off. "Come to New York with me."

"What?" I thought I had misheard him, until he repeated himself.

"Come to New York with me. My family lives upstate, and we always get together over the holiday, and you can meet everyone."

My heart flipped over with joy, but my head was screaming at how utterly insane this plan seemed. I said the only thing that came to mind. "But you'll miss school."

He rolled his eyes. "In public school, everyone skips this week. The teachers have even told us they're expecting it. Besides, it's not exactly like I've never done it before."

I narrowed my eyes, preparing to lecture him on how important a standard education was for teenagers, but he cut me off again. "_Come to New York with me_," he urged.

"It's so last minute, flights will be ridiculous –"

"Relax, they live upstate, it's only a three-hour drive. My parents drove down Sunday night, but they didn't want me to miss an extra two days of school." He made a face. "But this way, if you come, I'll have some company." He quirked his brow at me, daring me to come up with another excuse.

"Duncan," I sighed. "I _can't_."

"You can't, or you don't want to?" He asked, his features turning downward.

"I want to, it's just . . . don't you think we're moving a little too fast? I mean, it's been like, three days and –"

He pulled my lips into a passionate kiss, wrapping his hands into my hair. Pulling away, he left a trail of kisses from my lips to my left ear, and whispered huskily, "Don't you like moving fast?"

Adrenaline and lust coursed through my veins as my pulsed quickened. I spent a few moments feeling his hot breath on my ear before I yanked his lips back to my own, kissing him with fervor. A few minutes later and he had worn me down. I pulled away and said breathily, against my better judgment, "Okay."

"Okay?" He asked in a much louder voice.

"Okay, I'll come with you." I tried to ignore my head voice and focused on my heart which was exploding with joy and excitement.

He looked like a kid on Christmas as he hopped up and reached for my hand. "Let's go then – we've got a busy day tomorrow. I'll meet you at your place at four, they're expecting me for dinner."

I sighed audibly, as I took his hand, but I couldn't help but smile.


End file.
